Behind the curtains
by ILoveSprinklesOnMyToast
Summary: When the broken body of star of the HetaBallet, Francis Bonnefoy, is found, Vash Zwingli is hired to investigate the case. He ends up dragging a lot more skeletons out of the closet than he expected. Human AU, Murder AU, Ballet AU. Character death (Duh)
1. Broken

**Hello. So..Hetalia Ballet mystery sort of thingy. Hmm..yeah. Enjoy, I guess? Sorry for the shortness**

The body was broken and bent, sprawled against the cardboard boxes, as if it were thrown away without a single care. The limbs were bruised, dark blotches adorning the pale, yellow skin. The stench was filthy and sour and Arthur gagged, slowly sinking to his knees.

"F-f-" He stammered, bile rising in his throat. The head was tilted back in an awkward angle, dangling over the edge of a crumpled box and Arthur could only stare at those blue eyes, sperred wide open, so foreign but at the same time so horribly familiar. Arthur felt like someone turned off the lights in his mind, his vision blurring while he crawled towards the limp frame, hearing nothing but his own blood pounding into his ears.

The hair, once blonde and wavy, stuck to his hands as he cradled the head of his rival, the blood staining his shirt. "No-shit, no!" Arthur panted, panicking, rougly shaking the slender shoulders. The body felt cold, even through the thick sweater it was wearing and Arthur clumsily wrapped his arms around the waist, lifting the broken legs out of the box, ballet shoes hanging of the tip of bent feet, ribbons ripped and stained. As Arthur stood, legs trembling, trying to hold the body, the lifeless eyes were staring up at him, as if accusing him.

"I-it's not my fault you stupid frog!" He snapped, voice hoarse, digging his nails into his rival's thighs, ripping through the nude-colored stockings. He watched in horror as the pale face lolled backwards with a horrible snap. "No..NO!" The smell became almost unbearable and Arthur felt his stomach twist and turn. He felt his knees buckle, collapsing onto the cardboard with a loud crash, lungs crushed by the cold, heavy weight lying on his chest. He brought his stained hands to his face and he screamed, body rocking with ugly, animalistic sobs.

"WHAT IS GOING ON HERE!?" The door opened, slamming against the wall. Ludwig stormed into the small storage room. His blue eyes widened as he approached Arthur with outstretched hands. "O _mein Gott_..A-Arthur, let him go.."

The door opened again, revealing the rest of HetaBallet's crew who all stopped dead in their tracks when they saw Ludwig Beilschmidt trying to pry a hysterical Arthur Kirkland off the broken body of his fellow ballet dancer, Francis Bonnefoy.

"What are y'all screaming about, like-JESUS!" Feliks gasped, bringing his manicured hands up to his mouth.

"_FRANNY!_" Gilbert shouted while Antonio just stood there, watching in horror.

"Noooo! NOOO!" Sesel screamed, desperately trying to reach the body of her brother, even going so far as kicking Elizaveta, who held her back as tears trickled down her own face. "This isn't happening.." She stammered. "_This can't be happening.._"

"What can't be happening? What's wrong? I can't see!" Felicano's voice tittered from somewhere in the croud of shocked dancers, costumers and technicians.

"Don't look Feliciano." Ludwig said as he hoisted Arthur up, forcing him to let go of the cold, dead hand.

Arthur raised his head, squinting his eyes, trying to focus on all the faces that were looking at him and suddenly he became very aware off the fact that he had been holding on to a dead body and that he had _blood all over his face_. His eyes met Sesel's wide, dark ones. Her hair was coming down from her tight bun and she was digging her nails into her tanned palms, drawing blood, looking as if she was batshit insane.

"YOU!" She screamed, pointing at Arthur with trembling fingers. "It was YOU!" She lurged forward, stumbling slightly on her pointed shoes, clawing at Arthur's chest. Elizaveta caught her, trying to pull her back while Gilbert grabbed her wrists. "You KILLED him! YOU KILLED MY BROTHER!"

Feliks threw Arthur a disgusted look. "I never thought you could, like, stoop that low."

The crowd began to whisper and Arthur just wished he could disappear into the ground.

"_Murderer!_"

"_Do you truly think he murdered him? I knew they were rivals but.._"

"_Poor Francis. At least he died while he was living his dream, as THE star dancer of HetaBallet_!"

"_My god, is that blood_?"

"_What a coward_!"

Arthur felt his heart clench, his legs became weak and he struggled to breathe-

"EVERYBODY SHUT UP!"

Roderich Edelstein stalked into the room, deadly pale. "Everyone, go to the ballroom! Don't touch the body. No one is going to leave this building! There's a detective on the way!"


	2. Going nowhere

**Let's get started, shall we?**

"Hello everyone, my name is Vash Zwingli, private detective. I assume you all know why I'm here?" Vash snapped, green eyes darting across the room. His footsteps were hollow on the light wooden floor as he carefully inspected the faces of the dancers, stylists and technicians.

"Mister Roderich," He nodded curtly to the man question, who was still wearing his ruffly dance costume , eyes red and puffy, "has contacted me, to solve the murder which occured here,this evening, in this building." There were various choked sobs and gasps from the audience and Vash turned his back to the crowd, taking a scroll out of his pocket, unfolding it.

"Francis Bonnefoy was found in a storage room , somewhere around 6 PM, short after the dance repetions had ended. His body was severely damaged, with various serious injuries, such as broken legs, a broken arm and a broken neck. All the signs point to a violent murder."

Someone gagged. "F-Francis.."

Vash turned to see a tanned girl in a blue dress ,hair falling loose from her tight bun, pressing her hands against her mouth. "M-my brother.."

Vash gave her a quick look of pity before folding his hands behind his back and turning to the rest of the crowd.

"All of you were in the building, the moment Francis was murdered. This means you are all suspects. No one is going to leave this building until I've found the culprit."

There were small noises of protest from the crowd.

"What about our work? Our lives?" A Chinese man snapped, taking off his ballet shoes. A girl with a green ribbon in her hair jumped up, pointing at the Chinese man. "_How dare you!?_ There was someone MURDERED here tonight!"

Vash's eye twitched in annoyance. "Please calm down, Miss Van Rijn, Mister Wang. Your employers will be informed. I suggest you call your family to inform them about the situation."

Bella van Rijn sat down on one of the wooden benches again, furiously wiping a handkerchief over her cheeks. Yao Wang folded his arms, huffing. "_Ridiculous, aru_."

Vash Zwingli sighed, readjusting his hat. "Thank you, Miss Elizaveta told me the HetaBallet group owns various mattresses and blankets and that there are various empty dressing rooms available. Mister Roderich and Miss Elizaveta, would you mind guiding the suspects to the dressing rooms?"

Roderich nodded, inhaling shakily. "Follow me,everyone."

"Wait a second." Everyone turned his head towards the large Russian sitting in the corner. He looked at Vash with a kind smile, and Vash felt shivers travel down his spine. "We don't really have to stay here, do we?"

"I am certainly not kidding mister..?" "Braginski, Ivan Braginski." The Russian anounced happily.

"Everyone is going to stay here, or I will have to arrest you on the spot." Vash snapped through gritted teeth.

The girl beside Ivan Braginski snorted, glaring at Vash with burning hatred."Well, I hope everyone knows how to protect himself when the killer tries to murder them in their sleep, since he's locked in this building with us."

The crowd shuffled uneasily, throwing eachother panicked looks.

A pale man with red eyes spat on the ground. "Don't worry Ruskie, I'm sure you won't be attacked, judging by the amount of knives you're always waving around."

The woman grinned. "Wanna see them up close, you demon spawn?"

Vash almost growled in frustration. "Everybody shut your mouths, NOW! Nobody is going anywhere until I've found out who the culprit is, and believe me, _I will find out!_ If someone wants to confess in order to soften the verdict, now you've got the chance."

It was completely silent, until a sassy voice called out. "Well, I think we all totally know who's done it." Vash turned to the blonde haired man, who he recognized as Feliks Lukasiewicz, eyebrows raised. "You've got something to say, mister?"

Feliks pointed his manicured finger to a figure slumped on the ground, still sobbing slightly. "It was Arthur, ofcourse. He was even holding the body when we found it!" The other members of HetaBallet made soft noises of agreement.

Arthur lifted his head, eyes red, face still stained with blood. The blonde man stepped closer to him. "Like, were you so jealous that Francis got to be the main dancer that you killed him? I know you are pathetic but I never thought you could stoop that low."

Arthur's face twisted in a sneer and he lashed out in Feliks' direction. "SHUT UP!"

"_SILENCE!_" Vash roared. "We are not going to blindly accuse someone of murder! All of you, go to the dressing rooms. I will later approach you individually to listen to all of your stories. Good night!"

As the crew followed Roderich out of the room, Vash hid his face in his hands. He had a feeling this was going to be a rough case.

* * *

**Zwingli Detectives**

_Vash Zwingli_

**Report:** _1_

**Date:** _29-3-2015_

**Crime:** _Murder_

**Victim:** _Francis Bonnefoy, 26_

**Cause of death:** _Under investigation._

Suspects: **Profession: **_Notes:_

Arthur Kirkland,**Ballet dancer**,_Found on the crime scene._

Antonio Carriedo,**Stylist**

Gilbert Beilschmidt,**Stage technician**

Ludwig Beilschmidt,**Stage technician/builder**

Lovino Vargas,**Decor painter**

Feliciano Vargas,**Ballet dancer**

Sesel Bonnefoy,**Ballet dancer**,_Sister of the victim_

Elizaveta Herdevary **Ballet dancer/coach,**_Owner of HetaBallet_

Roderich Edelstein **Ballet dancer**, _co-owner_

Feliks Lukasiewicz **Stylist**

Bella Van Rijn **Stylist**

Natalia Braginski **Ballet dancer**

Ivan Braginski **Ballet dancer**

Yao Wang **Ballet dancer**

**So we've got a crime, a detective and the suspects. I think we're all set. Don't worry,most "suspects" will probably be out of the game fairly soon. Thank you for reading.**


	3. Crutches

**The story continues.. First suspect.. BTW thank you people who followed and favorited!**

"Sorry Lily, I'm afraid I'm not coming home tonight either." Vash grumbled into his phone, cutting through his younger sister's high-pitched tittering.

"Ja, I know, I know." He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I know you've already cooked for two, but I have to stay here for a while."

He sat down on the uncomfortable stool, straigtening his coat in the mirror.

"Jeez, It's not like I can predict something like this to happen."

Vash rummaged through his papers, trying to hold the phone between his jaw and shoulder.

"At HetaBallet."

"Francis, Francis Bonnefoy."

Vash groaned impatiently, quickly scanning through various notes and documents.

"Yes, THE Francis Bonnefoy, his body was found yester-"

There was a soft knock on the door. Vash turned his head and hastily stacked the papers into a messy pile.

"I'm sorry Lily, but I have to go now, there's someone at the door."

His thin lips curled into a warm smile. "Yes, I will take care, I promise. Love you too. Tschüs!"

The was a second knock on the door, more determined.

"Come in!" Vash called, stuffing his phone into his coat.

The door opened, revealing a tall woman. Her brown hair was messy, held out of her face by a white cloth. Her left leg was in a cast, bandaged all the way up in her black sweatpants. She looked tired, shocked, heavily leaning on her crutches, but her attitude radiated confidence.

"Grüezi, Miss Herdevary. Please come in." Vash said coolly. kicking an empty crate in her direction "I was already expecting you. Have a seat."

Elizaveta glared at him before placing the crutches against the wall and settling down on the crate, wincing slightly as she placed her foot on the ground.

"Mister Zwingli." Was the only thing she said, trying to hold her posture as tears of pain sprung into her eyes.

Vash grabbed a folder ,messy handwriting indicating it was E. Herdevary's, out of his stack of paper, leaning towards her as he compared her face to the picture on the file. "The owner and founder of the HetaBallet, I believe?

"Yes." she stated proudly, looking him straight in the eye. "What can I do for you? Ask away, I hope we can figure out this mess as soon as possible."

"What happened to your foot, Miss Herdevary?" Vash asked, eyeing the orange coloured plaster cast, names scribbled all over it.

Elizaveta seemed distraught, throwing him a confused look. "Oh..that.." She mumbled, rubbing her leg. "An iron beam dropped on my foot while I was working on the stage with Gilbert and Ludwig. I'm not allowed to do any kind of work now, including dancing."

"And..when exactly did this accident happen?"

She frowned, trying to remember. "6 weeks ago, I believe. Why do you want t-_are you taking notes?_"

Vash looked up from the paper he had been scribbeling at. "Yes, I am. Does that make you uncomfortable?"

Elizaveta straightened her back, looking flustered. "N-no, ofcourse not! I only don't understand how this information is of any importance for you!"

Vash clicked his pen, throwing her a cold look. "It's part of my job, Miss Herdevary, to do some research about the suspects and the victim. Now, you're known for the fact that even though you're already choreographing all your dances and training the dancers yourself, you always manage to dance a part in the show itself. Was it troubling for you, the show and the other dancers when it became clear you wouldn't be able to dance?"

Elizaveta gave him a small smile. "No not really! My husband, Roderich, and I have written the script ourselves, writing out all the dancemoves and routines, so that everybody knew exactly what to do. We even hired another trainer, Yao Wang, to help the dancers learn their parts."

Her smile dropped. "As for the part I would originally dance, we found a perfect replacement."

Vash watched as she suddenly caressed her leg, rubbing one particular spot, where a message was written in curly letters, surrounded by a big heart.

_Get wel soon ma chéri! x Francis_

She looked up at him, eyes glistening with tears. "Francis was perfect for the role. He was such a great dancer, you know. He could empathize with any role, man or woman. He was able to express the emotions of the characters in such a realistic way, you could feel them too. He was truly beautiful."

Vash nodded curtly, scribbling down a few more things. "So Francis replaced you. I take it you knew him pretty well? For how long has he been part of the ballet?'

Elizaveta sniffed. "He and his sister came over from France a few months ago, but I've known him for much longer. We went to the same dance academy, you see?"

"Alright..Do you think the group accepted him as one of their own?" Vash asked.

"Well, he charmed most of them in his bed pretty quickly, so I guess they did." Elizaveta said, chuckling a bit.

Vash frowned. So Francis Bonnefoy was _that_ kind of person. "Were there any people he couldn't get along with?"

Elizaveta scratched her chin. 'Well..there was some tension between him and Ivan, about same sex marriage and such..but I believe they made up a while ago. My husband didn't approve of him either, but he is that way with a lot of people. Oh, and ofcourse you have Arthur, who utterly _despised_ him for no reason other than him being French."

"Okay, and now a more recent question. Where were you when Francis Bonnefoy was murdered?"

She let out a shuddery sigh, closing her eyes. "I-I was in the ballroom. We were just done rehearsing the script, and I was just talking to some of the dancers when we heard terrible screaming coming from the hallway.."

Vash nodded. "Which people were with you in the ballroom?"

Elizaveta stretched her hand, counting on her fingers. "Yao, Antonio, Bella, Feliks and Lovino."

"That's all I wanted to know. Thank you very much for cooperating. You can leave now."

She struggled to stand, and Vash decided to take pity on her, handing her her crutches. "Oh and Miss Herdevary.."

She turned her head to look at him.

"Tell your husband I want him here in my office tomorrow morning, and that he has to bring a copy of the script with him."

She nodded before stumbling out the door. Vash sighed, looking at her file. Elizaveta Herdevary was a strong woman, probably with a big heart, but he wasn't sure if she was 100% trustworthy.

* * *

****Zwingli Detectives****

__Vash Zwingli__

****Report:**** _2_

****Date******:** _30___-3-2015__

****Crime******:** __Murder__

****Victim:**** __Francis Bonnefoy, 26__

****Cause of death:**** __Under investigation.__

Suspects**: ******Profession******: **__Notes:__

Arthur Kirkland,****Ballet dancer****,__Found on the crime scene, strong hatred towards victim.__

Antonio Carriedo,**Stylist, **_was in the ballroom (according to E.H)_

Gilbert Beilschmidt,**Stage technician**

Ludwig Beilschmidt,**Stage technician/builder**

Lovino Vargas,**Decor painter, **_was in the ballroom (according to E.H)_

Feliciano Vargas,**Ballet dancer**

Sesel Bonnefoy,**Ballet dancer**,_Sister of the victim_

Elizaveta Herdevary **Ballet dancer/coach,**_Owner of HetaBallet. Broken ankle, not able to dance or work. was in the ballroom. **Interrogated**_

Roderich Edelstein **Ballet dancer**, _co-owner, dislike towards victim_

Feliks Lukasiewicz **Stylist, **_was in the ballroom (according to E.H)_

Bella Van Rijn **Stylist,**_Was in the ballroom (according to E.H)_

Natalia Braginski **Ballet dancer**

Ivan Braginski **Ballet dancer, **_dislike towards victim_

Yao Wang **Ballet dancer,**_w__as in the ballroom (According to E.H)_

* * *

**Thank you for reading. Roderich Edelstein is the next one to be interrogated. All Favorites, reviews and follows are very much appreciated!**


	4. Birds

**Roderich talks to much, bleh.**

The man before him was tense, shifting uncomfortably in his seat, long fingered hands clutching the folder so tight his knuckles turned white.

"So..You're Roderich Edelstein, I believe?" Vash began, browsing through R.E's file, green eyes occasionally flicking up to meet Roderich's dark ones. "Co-owner of the HetaBallet, husband of Miss Elizaveta Herdevary?"

Roderich straightened his back. "Ja, that would be me." He huffed, glaring haughtily at Vash, crossing his legs.

Vash let out an irritated sigh, quickly scanning the man before him. Roderich Edelstein was wearing a crisp white blouse, slim fitting trousers and a purple coat which probably costed Vash's whole annual salary. Black, square glasses were perched on the tip of his nose, dark eyes looking down at him.. All in all, Roderich Edelstein radiated arrogance and vanity, and Vash didn't like him one single bit. Edelstein noticed Vash eyeing him and his thin lips curled into a smug smile, annoying Vash even further.

"I understand you brought a script with you?" Vash growled through gritted teeth, clicking his pen furiously.

Roderich's expression turned serious and he harshly thrusted the folder into Vash's outstretched hand. "It's selfmade," Roderich explained snootily, "Made by me and my-"

"You and your wife, yes, Miss Elizaveta already informed me about that." Vash interrupted in a bored tone.

Roderich snorted, crossing his arms. "Well, if you're already so well informed, Mister Zwingli, what do you want me here for?"

Vash clicked his tongue, lazily flipping through the script. "Information, Herr Edelstein, information. So, tell me about .." He threw a look at the front page, adorned by curly letters and one single feather. ".._Wings_."

Roderich licked his lips, running a hand through his hair. "Well, it is a more of a combination between ballet and modern dance than only classic ballet. The music is composed by me, in cooperation with Gilbert Beilschmidt, classical music mixed with modern dubstep." Roderich's nose scrunched up in disgust, implying that he didn't like the dubstep-or Gilbert Beilschmidt- at all.

"Most of the dances are choreographed by Elizaveta and the story is written by both Eliza and me."

Vash nodded, carefully writing everything down. "Okay, I see. The three of you made the whole thing yourself. Tell me about the story. What is it about?"

Roderich shifted on the crate, scraping his throat. "Well, it revolves around two iduviduals, one is tired of life, afraid of the future and doesn't know what to do. The other is careless, free, but also completely out of control. This is portrayed by two birds, one stuck inside the cage and the other one dancing on the outside. The bird inside the cage grows attached to the other bird, as the other bird shows him to the wicked world outside the cage. The bird tries to sort himself out as the other bird slowly drags him into insanity."

Vash raised one eyebrow. "Not exactly a happy story, isn't it?"

Roderich huffed, turning his head away from Vash. 'Not all shows have to be as sugary sweet as _Sleeping Beauty_ or _Cinderella_. You clearly don't understand the purpose of dance, and art."

Vash resisted the urge to roll his eyes, picking up the script again. "So, the main characters are..." He quickly scanned the roles and character names. "... _Caged Bird_ and _Free Bird_? Your character names aren't exactly original, Herr Edelstein."

Roderich's eye twitched. "Oh please, Herr Zwingli, Do not talk about things you don't understand. The birds have no name, no gender and no identity, only a personality and that's all the audience needs to know. It's only about emotions, expressed by dance. It's art."

Vash couldn't help but smirk at the annoyed face of the dancer before him. "I'm a detective, not an artist. It's not my job to understand the purpose of art. I solve crimes, not mysterious psychological dance drama's. Anyway, you play the Caged Bird?"

Roderich nodded. "Ja and Eliza was meant to play the Free bird. We thought the emotions would be more intense if a couple that was also a couple in real life would dance the roles. It makes the whole epression of love more realistic."

Vash wrote this down, before checking the characters once again. "And I presume, Francis took over Elizaveta's role as the Free Bird, when she broke her ankle? Did that make it harder for Francis and you to empathize with the characters, as you both weren't dancing with someone you also loved in real life?"

Roderich's expression turned cold and he straightened his back again, readjusting his glasses on the tip of his nose. "It's part of the job of the dancer to empathize with a role, so it wasn't too much of a problem for me."

"And for Francis?"

Roderich snorted. "He got into his character pretty quickly, even though it was originally meant to be a bird who showed more female behaviour. Elizaveta and I decided to make the birds genderless, but even if the bird had stayed female I'm pretty sure he wouldn't have minded dancing in a dress."

"You say that as if you don't like Francis very much."

Roderich glared at him, folding his hands in his lap. "I didn't like him very much, indeed. He was a very good dancer, yes, but I didn't like his outrageous behaviour. Extremely unprofessional: Sleeping around and arguing all the time! Utterly spoiled! Always trying the change the routines or the costumes or whatever, and the worst thing is: Elizaveta always gave him what he wanted!"

Vash blinked, shocked by Roderich's unexpected outburst. "Okay, thank you for your honesty. Now, another question: Where were you when Francis Bonnefoy was murdered?"

Roderich's answer came without hesitation. "I was in the theatre, with Gilbert Beilschmidt. We were trying out the music, testing how it sounded on stage. We didn't hear what was going on over the loud music but we saw people running towards the storage room. We followed them, we heard the screams of the others and immidiately knew something was off. Gilbert and I decided we would split up. Gilbert would follow the others to the storage room and I would call the cops. So I called the cops, and you, Mister Zwingli, came here immidiately."

Vash nodded slowly. "Okay Herr Edelstein, I think that's it. You may go now."

Roderich Edelstein stiffly raised from his seat, straightening his coat. "My wife would like for you to have breakfast with us and the other dancer. She really appreciates the work that you do."

Vash gave him a curt nod. "That's very kind of her, tell her I'll be there in a few minutes."

Roderich stepped forward, reaching for the folder Vash still had in his hands. "I would like to have "_Wings_" back, please."

Vash raised one eyebrow. "I would like to keep this for research purposes, Herr Edelstein, I'm pretty sure you have many other copies lying in your dressing room. Also, I would like to add that you and your wife both have very different opinions of Francis Bonnefoy."

Roderich Edelstein's mouth was a thin line. "_Auf Wiedersehen_, Herr Zwingli." He snapped, before turning on his heel and stomping out the door.

Vash Zwingli chuckled as the door of the dressing room slammed shut, putting R.E's file away. Roderich Edelstein was certainly full of himself, he thought, opening"Wings" again. His attention was drawn by a little book falling out from inbetween the pages. He picked it up, inspecting the purple cover. Week planner 2014-2015 He opened it flipping the pages until he found 29-3-2015, disappointed when he found an empty page. He chuckled to himself. What had he expected? That Roderich Edelstein had written down something like "Don't forget to kill Francis Bonnefoy today"? He scanned the little memo's stuck to the page, one was about a doctor's appointment, one was a grocery list and another one was filled with messy lines and music notes. There was one that stood out a little from the rest. It was a very tiny note, only reading: _Pay coat, Chanel: $3000-_

Vash gaped at the price. At least there was one thing he already had confirmed in this case: Roderich Edelstein was a prick with way to much money.

* * *

****Zwingli Detectives****

__Vash Zwingli__

****Report:**** __3__

****Date:**** __31-3-2015__

****Crime:**** __Murder__

__**Place of crime: **____Building of the Hetaballet.__

****Victim:**** __Francis Bonnefoy, 26, main role in "Wings"__

****Cause of death:**** __Under investigation.__

Suspects****: Profession: ****__Notes:__

Arthur Kirkland,****Ballet dancer****,__Found on the crime scene, strong hatred towards victim.__

Antonio Carriedo,****Stylist, ****__was in the ballroom (according to E.H)__

Gilbert Beilschmidt,****Stage technician ******_Was in the theatre (according to E.H)_**

Ludwig Beilschmidt,****Stage technician/builder****

Lovino Vargas,****Decor painter, ****__was in the ballroom (according to E.H)__

Feliciano Vargas,****Ballet dancer****

Sesel Bonnefoy,****Ballet dancer****,__Sister of the victim__

Elizaveta Herdevary ****Ballet dancer/coach,****__Owner of HetaBallet. Broken ankle, not able to dance or work. was in the ballroom. ___**_**Interrogated**_**_

Roderich Edelstein ****Ballet dancer****, __co-owner, dislike towards victim, Main role in "Wings", was in the theatre, ____**interrogated**__

Feliks Lukasiewicz ****Stylist, ****__was in the ballroom (according to E.H)__

Bella Van Rijn ****Stylist,****__Was in the ballroom (according to E.H)__

Natalia Braginski ****Ballet dancer****

Ivan Braginski ****Ballet dancer, ****__dislike towards victim__

Yao Wang ****Ballet dancer,****__was in the ballroom (According to E.H)__

* * *

**Thank you for reading. Every review, favorite and follow is very much appreciated! :D**


	5. Ash

**No interrogation is this chapter, sorry :/ Also, this chapter is more angsty than the others. Enjoy!**

* * *

She looked like a twisted angel, standing barefoot on the cold stone of the balcony, the thin fabric of her nightgown fluttering around her legs, surrounded by an aura of smoke.

Vash scraped his throat and she turned her head towards him, raising the cigarette to her chapped lips.

"Miss Sesel Bonnefoy." He stated, trying to keep his voice steady.

"Bonjour." She said, voice emotionless and monotone, tired brown eyes looking up to meet green, blowing a haze of smoke in his direction as she spoke.

_It was scary how much someone could deteriorate in a few days._

"Shouldn't you be inside, eating breakfast with the others?" He asked, looking at the open door, loud laughing and talking coming from inside.

She merely shrugged, staring at her feet. "I could ask you the same thing."

Vash looked at her bare, tanned arms, covered in goosebumps. "You should go inside."

She tapped her cigarette lightly, ash falling onto the skirt of her white gown. "Why?"

"You're cold." It wasn't a question.

She leaned back against the culy metal rail, brushing her matted black hair out of her face. "The cigarette will warm me." Her eyes never left him as she pressed the cigarette against her arm.

He stalked towards her, firmly grabbing her wrist. "I know you're hurting, Miss Bonnefoy, but torturing yourself isn't going to make the situation any better."

She struggled in his grip, brown eyes suddenly filled with life. "Let me go-LET ME GO! Leave me alone!"

Vash tightened his hold, trying to avoid the cigarette, forcing her to look at him. "Miss Bonnefoy. Miss Bonnefoy. Look at me. Look at me!"

She grabbed his coat, trying to push him away. "Go away!"Her bare feet kicked against his boots, toes pale and bloody.

"Stop it! You're hurting yourself!" Vash yelled, gasping when her cigarette pushed against his collarbone.

"I don't care, it doesn't matter! Nothing fucking matters! He's dead!" She wailed, rapping her fist on his chest. Suddenly she stopped, staggering backwards, collapsing against the rail, sliding to her knees. She looked up at him with wide eyes, white dress sprawled out around her, stained with ash.

"My brother is dead."

Big tears started to roll over her cheeks and she hugged herself, hiding her face in her knees.

Vash crouched beside her, placing a hand on her shoulder and suddenly she was clinging onto him for dear life.

"Why? Why did it have to be him? Mister Zwingli, I know my brother might've done a few stupid things, but why did he have to die!?"

Vash attention was drawn at those words as he awkwardly patted her head.

"Nobody is perfect, right!? He wasn't exactly a saint, but he surely was a good person!"

She continued to sob into the crook of his neck, digging her nails in his shoulders. Vash wrinkled his nose at the smell of sweat and tabacco hanging around her..

Suddenly she raised her head, looking at him with teary eyes. "Mister Zwingli?" Her eyes sparked with anger, sadness and a slight twinge of insanity. She needed psychological help,_ now._

"Yes, miss Bonnefoy?"

"Wil you please fix this? Will you find out who murdered my brother?"

Cold green eyes stared into fiery brown for a minute. "I will try my best."

She gave him a heartbreaking, strained smile. "Merci."

"Don't thank me, it's my job. Come on, we should go inside. ELIZAVETA!"

He pulled her up, supporting her around the waist, slowly leading her towards the door.

Elizaveta Herdevary appeared, wearing a pink apron, leaning on her crutches, gasping as she saw her dancer in such a state. "Sesel!"

She dropped her crutches, hobbling towards the still sobbing girl, her left leg hitting the floor with a hollow thud, wrapping her in a comforting embrace. Vash released Sesel, giving Elizaveta a firm look.

"Miss Herdevary, please take Miss Bonnefoy to the front door. I will call someone to pick her up."

Elizaveta gav him a curt nod, before hurrying off, arms firmly wrapped around Sesel's shoulders.

"C'mon sweety, you're going home."

Before they were inside, Sesel turned her head, looking straight at Vash.

"The stylists know something." She said, voice shaky but managing to sound confident.

Before he had time to respond, they were already out of the door.

* * *

**No police report, because there was no interrogation in this chapter. Thank you for reading!**


	6. Smeared Mascara

**Omg this chapter is going to be long, sorry if that annoys you, but I didn't want to do like a 300 word chapter or something and I was afraid people are going to accidently skip a scene if I made it a seperate chapter and uploaded those two chapters at the same time. Also thank you people who favorited and followed! Anyway enough of my rambling. Enjoy this chapter!**

* * *

"Don't worry, sir. Mister Honda will take miss Bonnefoy to her relatives. We will make sure she is under constant supervision and we will also provide psychological help."

Vash watched as a short man with a black bob led a hysterical Sesel Bonnefoy into a police car. He scratched his chin.

"She will still remain as a suspect."

The tall man nodded, fumbling with his sleeves. "Ofcourse, sir. Kiku is qualified for that sort of thing. We will follow the entire procedure of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. Eventually, she will talk to him and he will inform you immediately."

Vash gave him a approving nod. "Okay, perfect. Thank mister Honda for me, mister...?"

The man stared at his feet, tucking a strand of wavy blonde hair behind his ear. "Williams, Matthew Williams, sir."

Vash shook his hand firmly, Williams still avoiding his gaze. "Nice to meet you, Matthew. My name is Vash Zwingli, detective. So, judging by your outfit, I assume you belong to a crime scene investigation team?"

The man's cheeks flushed red and threw Vash an uncomfortable look. "Uhm..Yeah.. I'm a psychologist. I help relatives to cope with their loss and I try to talk to the culprits. Sometimes the culprits want to talk to someone who understands them,eh?"

Vash thought about this for a minute. "Yeah, you're right. Can you give me your card?"

Matthew Williams turned even more red. "M-my card? But why, sir?"

Vash shrugged. "Just in case. In this case, all the suspects know eachother and the victim very well, so I think that there are more people who were emotionally damaged, just like miss Bonnefoy here. I might give you a call."

Matthew nodded shakily. "Y-yeah. I guess I've got to go now and ride with Kiku and miss Bonnefoy. Goodbye mister Zwingli."

Vash watched as he hurried off into his car, head bowed, not looking back.

"Well he sure is a sensitive lad for a psychologist, isn't he?"

Vash turned his head to Elizaveta, who was panting slightly, tears on her cheeks and messy hair. "I really hope Sesel will talk to one of them. She really needs to. I offered her to talk to me, but she only got angry and told me to leave me alone. It isn't good when someone just hides all his feelings, it will probably ruin you in the end."

Vash nodded in agreement, before taking his phone out of his pocket. "I agree with you, miss Herdevary, but if you will excuse me, I have to make a few phonecalls."

Elizaveta hobbled inside while Vash raised to phone to his ear, only to yank it away when a extremely enthousiastic voice blared through the phone.

_"Hello, Zwingli Detectives, Alfred F. Jones here! What can I help you with?"_

Vash groaned, rubbing his temple. "Hello Jones, I just called to ask you if you've a free desk left."

There were some scuffling noises on the other end of the line and Vash tapped his foot impatiently.

_"Uh..sure boss. Why?"_

"A psychologist may or may not join our team and I wanted to make sure there was enough room for him.'"

_"That's awesome dude! There's totally enough room for another colleague here! I'll immediately reserve his desk for him. What's his name?"_

"Calm down, Alfred, nothiing's sure yet. I've yet to decide if we need him or not. His name is Matthew Williams, by the way."

"_MATTIE!? What a coincidence! That's my brother. Oh my god man, that's so cool!"_

Vash rolled his eyes, even though Alfred wasn't there. "Why do you have different surn- oh, forget it. Can I talk to Erik for a minute?"

"_Sure man!_" Alfred moved away from the phone, screaming something inaudible to the other people in the room. Then a stoic voice snapped. _"Vash, what do you need me for?"_

"Hello Erik, I wanted to know if you found out anything about Francis Bonnefoy's cause of death." Vash said, tracing patterns on the buttons of his coat.

_"Well, judging by the pictures of the crime scene you sent me, and the injuries on his body, it strongly looks like he's beaten to death with an metal object, such as a baseball bat, a microphone stand or a technical tool or something. He wasn't poisoned or stabbed, the culprit didn't attack from behind, but from the front, so he or she didn't startle Francis. It is likely that the culprit didn't want Francis to die immidiately because otherwise he would have wounds on the back of his head. Maybe it was just an impulse or he or she wanted Francis to suffer. As for DNA, there were no other DNA traces then Arthur Kirkland's, so it means that he is guilty or that the culprit used gloves."_

Vash sighed. "So you think Kirkland is guilty?"

_"I would not say that he's guilty, but he surely is the head suspect until you find the weapon or gloves or some other sign which could imply that he didn't murder Francis Bonnefoy. I say that you better go and talk to Arthur Kirkland."_

"I will. But first, I have to talk to some other people."

* * *

The first thing Vash noticed when he entered the room was the pink. The pink walls, the pink floor and most of all the furry pink couch, standing in the middle of the room, surrounded by clothing and make-up.

"Well mister Zwingli, what are you doing here? Do you want a little manicure?" Feliks giggled, waving a manicured hand in front of his face, nails sparkling in the bright light of the lamps surrounding the big mirror.

"Very funny, mister Lukasiewicz, but I'm here for an interrogation." Vash grumbled, taking out his notebook.

"But what's the use of that? C'mon you totally know it's Arthur. Everyone knows!" The blonde said, placing his hands on his hips, flicking his blonde hair over his shoulder.

"A lot of the..signs point towards him, yes. But I still hope you can provide me with some more information." Vash said, through gritted teeth, already annoyed by the sassy man.

Feliks ran towards him, wearing a feathery stola. "Ah! Just like in the movies! The stylist knows everything, like,all the gossipis and stories, am I right? Sit down!" He gave Vash a firm push against his chest and he stumbled backwards, falling onto the furry couch. It smelled like strawberries and hairspray and Vash wrinkled his nose in disgust.

Feliks flopped beside him, way too close for comfort. "Well, ask away!"

Vash moved to the other side of the couch. "Well Mister Lukasiewicz, I would like you to tell me everything you know about Francis Bonnefoy'.

Feliks bit his lip slightly, narrowing his green eyes. "Alright. Francis was ,like ,a totally fabulous guy. He really knew how to dress himself, y'know? He looked great in every costume I made for him! I wish I had those legs..Well not now ofcourse, since they're all, like, bloody and dead and stuff. But man, I would kill to have such a body-!"

"Alright I get it. What was he like?" Vash grumbled, not willing to listen to Feliks worshipping Francis' legs.

"Well he was a really nice guy. Only-" Feliks batted his thick eyelashes at him, dragging the tip of the stola over Vash's chin, voice dropping an octave."-Like really flirty, y'know? He has slept with almost everyone here! But I don't really mind, because he was like, the best lay ever."

Vash struggled to keep his face neutral at the mention of Feliks' sex life and he quickly moved on to the next question.

"Where were you when Francis Bonnefoy was murdered?"

Feliks face fell. "Why do you want to know that? Like, do you think I murdered him or something!? It was Arthur, you know that too! But okay, I was in the ballroom with Eliza, Bella, Toni, Lovi and Yao."

"Alright, next question." Vash said, scribbling something down in his notebook. "Did you notice Francis acting any different the day he was murdered?"

Feliks leaned back, putting his high heeled feet in Vash's lap, causing Vash to groan in frustration. "Yeaaah..Since they were going to practise with costumes and make-up and everything, I dressed him up that day. He tried to act happy but to be honest he looked really bad, bags under his eyes and greasy hair and everything. I didn't point it out because that's, like, really rude, but I think everyone noticed. He didn't want to talk about it,though."

Vash roughly pushed Feliks' feet from his lap, raising from his seat. "Well, thank you for your information, mister Lukasiewicz, I think I'm going to leave now.

As he turned around to leave, a hand with long, sparkly, pink nails closed around his wrist. "Wait! I wasn't done yet!"

Vash sighed as he was pulled back onto the couch. Feliks turned towards him, face grim. "Maybe it wasn't anything special. I think we were all a bit sad that day."

Vash raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

"Well.." Feliks suddenly clutched the stola for dear life. "We..we-Elizaveta and Roderich had a fight the night before. They were all screaming about divorces and shit, they could be heard in the entire building. We-we all knew that.." He let out an shaky sigh, covering his eyes. "Elizaveta and Roderich run this entire thing together, the ballet I mean. If they aren't together, they won't be able to continue this anymore, and we all have to quit."

He said there for a few minutes, sobbing quietly. "I don't want this to end, y'know? We always had so much fun together and then everything falls apart and-" His breath hitched before he decided to calm himself, looking at Vash with teary eyes, cheeks smeared with makeup.

"So..yeah. That's why we were all a little upset that day. Ofcourse we didn't knew back then that things could only get worse and Arthur would kill Francis. Nobody saw that coming. I mean, Arthur hated Francis but we all thought it was more of a ,like, love-hate thing. I guess it was not since he beat the shit out of poor-"

"Wait a minute." Vash harshly interrupted him. "Why are you automatically assuming it is Kirkland?"

Feliks looked at him, obviously confused. "Why wouldn't I? He was found on the crime scene, clutching that body. You haven't seen him. You didn't see that mad look in his eyes! Like you said, everything points in his direction! He is totally guilty and he deserves to rot in hell!"

"Mister Lukasiewicz you can't just accuse someone of-" Vash began reasonably, but Feliks raised a manicured hand to stop him.

"I thought we were done? If you excuse me, I need to fix my makeup. Have a nice day." He then turned towards the mirrow, completely ignoring Vash, taking out various brushes and powders.

"Auf Wiedersehen, Mister Lukasiewicz." Vash said, before quickly leaving the room.

He had the feeling this wasn't the stylist Sesel was talking about.

* * *

****Zwingli Detectives****

__Vash Zwingli__

****Report:**** __4__

****Date:**** 1__-4-2015__

****Crime:**** __Murder__

__**Place of crime: **____Building of the Hetaballet.__

****Victim:**** __Francis Bonnefoy, 26, main role in "Wings"__

****Cause of death:**** __Beaten to death with a heavy metal object.__

Suspects****: Profession: ****__Notes:__

Arthur Kirkland,****Ballet dancer****,__Found on the crime scene, strong hatred towards victim.__

Antonio Carriedo,****Stylist, ****__was in the ballroom (according to E.H)__

Gilbert Beilschmidt,****Stage technician ****_Was in the theatre (according to R.E)_

Ludwig Beilschmidt,****Stage technician/builder****

Lovino Vargas,****Decor painter, ****__was in the ballroom (according to E.H)__

Feliciano Vargas,****Ballet dancer****

Sesel Bonnefoy,****Ballet dancer****,__Sister of the victim, at home under supervision__

Elizaveta Herdevary ****Ballet dancer/coach,****__Owner of HetaBallet. Broken ankle, not able to dance or work. was in the ballroom. __**_**Interrogated**_**

Roderich Edelstein ****Ballet dancer****, __co-owner, dislike towards victim, Main role in "Wings", was in the theatre, ____**interrogated**__

Feliks Lukasiewicz ****Stylist, ****__was in the ballroom (according to E.H) ____**Interrogated**__

Bella Van Rijn ****Stylist,****__Was in the ballroom (according to E.H)__

Natalia Braginski ****Ballet dancer****

Ivan Braginski ****Ballet dancer, ****__dislike towards victim__

Yao Wang ****Ballet dancer,****__was in the ballroom (According to E.H)__

* * *

**The plot thickens.. Thank you for reading. The next one to be interrogated is another stylist... Every review, follow or favorite is very much appreciated!**


	7. Jealousy

**My headcanon for Belgium is that she is kind but that she also can be kind of a bitch when she wants to, so sorry if you think she's ooc. Also, apologize for any spelling errors as I wrote this on my phone in a very crowded train :/ I would also like to thank the person that reviewed the previous chapter. Nice to know that someone is actually wondering about the identity of the culprit :) Enjoy this chapter :D**

* * *

Red lips shimmered in the dim light,curling into a kind, though slightly seductive, smile.

"You wanted to see me, mister Zwingli?" She purred, leaning forward, twirling a strand of hair around her finger.

Vash felt his cheeks flush, slowly scanning the woman before him. You could see she was a stylist, her makeup made the right features of her face stand out. She wore a simple black dress and red stiletto heels that matched the ribbon in her curly hair. There was something mysterious in the way she was lounging in the leather chair, legs crossed and one arm above her head.

Yes, miss Van Rijn, I'm here to interrogate you."

"Please sir, call me Bella. Everyone does." She said, raising a beer bottle to her lips. "Would you like a beer?"

"No, thank you. I would like to ask you a few questions now." Vash said sternly.

She giggled, walking towards him with a confident strut, laying her hands on the collar of his coat.

"Ofcourse, please sit down. Let me take your coat."

Vash felt his face heat even more when the long red nails toyed with the buttons on his chest. "I-I would rather prefer to keep it on, danke."

Her smile dropped for a second, but she quickly composed herself, walking back to the chair, gesturing for Vash to take the seat opposite her.

"So," Vash began when they were both settled down. "Tell me everything you know about Francis Bonnefoy."

Bella raised a perfectly groomed eyebrow, before letting out a soft,melodious laugh. "Oh my, oh my. Feliks was right, you are so blunt. Honest and direct, I like that in a man."

"Miss Van Rijn, I would like if you would be so kind to answer the question _now_." Vash said, tone cold and direct.

For a fraction of a second she flashed him an angry look, before folding her hands in her lap. "Ofcourse you would approach me for such a question, wouldn't you, you smart little detective?"

When Vash only looked at her in confusion, she sighed, rolling her green eyes. "I'm a stylist. There's no one closer to the dancers than me, right? They trust me more than their own family. It's adorable; they just assume I won't leak any of the precious information they even don't want their friends and lovers to know."

Vash narrowed his eyes, looking at the still smiling woman. "You look like you enjoy that sense of power, miss Van Rijn."

Her smile turned into a grin and she leaned forward, giving Vash an impressive view of her cleavage. "Ofcourse I do, mister Zwingli. But would never leak any of the things they tell me, it's part of my job to keep them skeletons in the closet. And believe me, you want those skeletons to be in that closet forever. Ballet dancers are fucked up people."

Vash's attention perked up at this and he looked at the woman with renewed interest.

"What do you mean by that?" He asked walking towards her chair, towering above her.

She casually studied her nails, throwing one slender leg over the armrest. "Have you ever seen the feet of a ballet dancer? Then you'll know what I mean. They are completely fucked up, vain,jealous and competitive, willing to kill themselves and eachother in order to get fame. Behind the curtains lies a world full of manipulation, jealousy,affairs and the never ending hunger for recognition."

Vash leaned forward, placing his hands on the armrests of her chair, cold green eyes staring threateningly at twinkling ones, so close that he was able to smell her alcoholic breath. "Miss van Rijn, you know that I can arrest you if you are keeping any crucial information from me?"

She didn't look scared or intimidated, in fact, Bella van Rijn seemed to enjoy this little game, brushing her leg against his gloved hand, smiling up at him.

"I know that, _Vash_. But who knows if I am keeping anything crucial from you? After all, I don't know what you want to know. I guess you'll just have to find out whether the information I am keeping from you is crucial, or not."

"So you admit you're hiding something from me, miss van Rijn."

"Yes."

They glared at eachother for a minute, listening to eachothers breaths, Vash carefully comparing his options.

After a while, he took a step back, folding his hands behind his back. "Answer the question, _bitte_." He sighed.

She gave him a bright smile, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Ofcourse, _Vash_."

"It's Herr or mister Zwingli for you, miss van Rijn." Vash growled, growing very annoyed with the Belgian.

She ignored him, straightening her dress, long nails tapping against the beer bottle. "So..Francis, huh? He wasn't very loved here."

She laughed at Vash's surprised look. "Oh, you didn't know that, did you? Did the others tell you that they loved him? Did they pretend to care for the snobby frenchman who managed to get the female lead role, even though he was a newbie and a man, simply because he was adored by Elizaveta?"

Her expression darkened and she clenched her hands into fists, nails digging into her palm. "Did they cry for the _slut_, who caused-" She paused, taking deep breaths, trying to calm herself.

"Who caused what?" Vash asked.

She gave him a cold look, before turning her head away from him."I don't want to talk anymore. _Next question please_."

"Alright..next question. Where were you when Francis Bonnefoy was murdered?"

Thick, dark lashes fluttered against her cheeks. "Didn't Feliks tell you? I was in the ballroom with Feliks, Lizzy, Lovino, Toni and Yao, talking about how the decor had to look if we wanted it to match with the costumes. Suddenly we heard screaming and..well, you know the rest of the story."

Vash gave her a curt nod, writing something down in his notebook. "Okay thank you. Forgive me if this is a very personal question, but do you believe that Arthur Kirkland is the culprit, just like your fellow stylist, Feliks Lukasiewicz?"

She suddenly straightened her back, tucking a strand of light brown hair behind her ear. "Ofcourse I do!"

"Why?"

She took another gulp of beer. "Jealousy ofcourse! Arthur hated Francis. Arthur has been by the ballet for more then 4 years and has never ever been the lead role. Francis has only been here for 2 months, only to immediately become the star of Hetaballet, in the show of the century! I would be pretty jealous too!"

"Don't you think it is a bit strange to kill someone over a role?"

"As I said, _Vash_-"

"_Mister Zwingli_" Vash snapped.

"-_Vash_, ballet dancers are mentally unstable and competitive. You didn't see the look in Arthur's eyes when we found them. He looked completely insane. We were just done with practicing (Practising?) one of the most important dances, complete with costumes, the final one, in which caged and free bird finally embrace eachother. Arthur is Francis' understudy, so I guess he just.._snapped_ when he saw Roderich and Francis in costume, dancing the leading roles."

Vash blinked, trying to take in this information. "Well, that is a very interesting theory, miss Van Rijn. Thank you for your time, but I really have to go now. I have some other people I would like to visit next."

She gave him a kind smile. "Ofcourse _Vash_, if you have any other questions, don't hesitate to visit again. I quite enjoyed your company."

Vash threw her an annoyed look. "_Mister Zwingli_. Oh and do not worry miss van Rijn; I will find out what you're hiding soon enough so we'll be seing eachother a lot."

She grinned at him. "I look forward to it."

* * *

As soon as Vash was out of the door, he took his phone out of his pocket. "Alfred, call Lovino Vargas, Yao Wang and Antonio Carriedo and tell them I need to speak to them, now. I need to confirm Bella van Rijn's alibi."

* * *

**Zwingli Detectives**

_Vash Zwingli_

**Report:** _5_

**Date:** 1_-4-2015_

**Crime:** _Murder_

__**Place of crime: **___Building of the Hetaballet._

**Victim:** _Francis Bonnefoy, 26, main role in "Wings"_

**Cause of death:** _Beaten to death with a heavy metal object._

Suspects**: Profession: **_Notes:_

Arthur Kirkland,**Ballet dancer**,_Found on the crime scene, strong hatred towards victim._

Antonio Carriedo,**Stylist, **_was in the ballroom (according to E.H)_

Gilbert Beilschmidt,**Stage technician **_Was in the theatre (according to R.E)_

Ludwig Beilschmidt,**Stage technician/builder**

Lovino Vargas,**Decor painter, **_was in the ballroom (according to E.H)_

Feliciano Vargas,**Ballet dancer**

Sesel Bonnefoy,**Ballet dancer**,_Sister of the victim, at home under supervision_

Elizaveta Herdevary **Ballet dancer/coach,**_Owner of HetaBallet. Broken ankle, not able to dance or work. was in the ballroom. _**_**Interrogated**_**

Roderich Edelstein **Ballet dancer**, _co-owner, dislike towards victim, Main role in "Wings", was in the theatre, ___**interrogated**__

Feliks Lukasiewicz **Stylist, **_was in the ballroom (according to E.H) ___**Interrogated**__

Bella Van Rijn **Stylist,**_Was in the ballroom (according to E.H)**Interrogated**_

Natalia Braginski **Ballet dancer**

Ivan Braginski **Ballet dancer, **_dislike towards victim_

Yao Wang **Ballet dancer,**_was in the ballroom (According to E.H)_

* * *

**I know it is probably impossible to figure out yet, but do you have any speculations on who could've murdered Francis? Would be fun. Yao is the next one to be interrogated. Maybe a certain psychologist will make a comeback soon.**


	8. Chemistry

**Hello there! It had been a while, hasn't it? Oh well..please enjoy this chapter!**

* * *

It wasn't that hard to find Yao Wang, as his sharp, high pitched commands could be heard from kilometres away.

"Come on, aru! Aiyaah..Higher legs, more grace! Add drama, I want drama, you hurting, okay!? I want to see that! I want to see pain on your face! Do it again, aru! Un. deux, un deux.."

Vash leaned against the wall ,watching the two dancers as he waited for Yao to notice him.

They ran across the room, taking big leaps that were supposed to be elegant but looked very forced, faces scrunched up in concentration and annoyance, pace not adjusted to eachother. They looked strange, messy, awkward, even Vash could see that, and the ballet coach could see it too.

"EDELSTEIN! Look more desperate, aru! You are out of the cage for the first time, you do not know how to fly!" The short figure shrieked, making angry gestures at the struggling dancers. "KIRKLAND, for gods sake, SMILE!"

Vash chuckled as he watched the Asian man rage at the two other males, causing the dancers to realize he was also in the room.

"Oh, hallo Herr Zwingli." Roderich Edelstein said coolly, immediately letting go of Arthur Kirkland, who only acknowledged his presence with a curt nod, green eyes bearing an unreadable expression.

Yao Wang turned around, face flushed, panting slightly, an annoyed look on his face.

"Aiyah..and what are you doing here? Make it quick, because I've got a lot to do, aru."

Vash raised his eyebrows, not used to this kind of treatment. "Well, sir, actually I wish to speak to you, in private."

Yao frowned before turning towards the two other dancers. "You heard the German man, get out."

Arthur Kirkland immediately left, quickly brushing past Vash, not meeting his eyes, looking relieved. Vash raised his eyebrows as he noticed dark bruises covering his chest and neck. Edelstein followed more slowly, glaring at Vash as he left, while Vash just gave him an impatient look.

Yao Wang folded his arms, cocking his head. "Well? This better be something important, aru."

"Well-" Vash began, confused by Yao's very.. direct way of approach. Most of the time the suspects weren't so..impatient.

Yao huffed, tucking a strand of long dark hair behind his ear. "Did you finally solve the crime!? Are we allowed to go home now?"

"..no, I'm sorry to disappoint you, mister Wang." Vash said quickly, trying not to stare at the man's pink Hello Kitty sweatshirt. Yao frowned. "Aaaiyah..what is taking you so long, aru!? We've been in here for almost a week now! Why are you here, then?"

"Because I want to talk to y-.

"What more is there to say?" Yao said, raising a thin eyebrow, already starting to walk away from Vash.

"_Mister Wang, I would really appreciate it if you wouldn't just keep interrupting me every time I try to explain to you why I'm here_." Vash snapped, already growing very annoyed with the angry Asian man.

Yao turned around, his long hear whipping over his shoulder, giving Vash an expectant look. "Alright. Talk, then."

He frowned when Vash didn't reply, instead seeming to observe him very carefully. "Well!?"

"You seem very...impatient, Mister Wang." Vash said slowly. "Why is that?"

The Asian man threw his hands in the air in a frustrated gesture. "Because some people have lives outside of their job, aru! I've got a restaurant to take care of, and my younger brothers and sisters to feed!"

"You own a restaurant?"

"Yes, I do not see why that should be important but yes; I own an Asian restaurant." Yao stated proudly.

"Then why are you here working for HetaBallet as a coach, then?" Vash asked, genuinly curious.

"Because they asked me to do it. I'm the only available ex- dance coach-besides Elizaveta- in this area." He said, moving his arms in graceful patterns, standing on the tip of his toes. "And because I love dancing and teaching others how to dance." He frowned, stretching his arms above his head, lifting one leg, pushing it beside his head. "But it not so much fun when your dancers have as much chemistry as a vegan and a hamburger, aru."

Vash's lips curled into a small smile at the strange comparison. "I take it you mean Arthur Kirkland and Roderich Edelstein?"

"Yes. I really do not understand why Miss Herdevary they let them dance this part. Aaiyah…The way they look at eachother, as if they want to bash eachother's heads in! Sesel would've been a much better replacement for Bonnefoy!"

"Did Roderich Edelstein and Francis Bonnefoy have any chemistry at all, then?" Vash asked, recalling Edelstein's angry face as he ranted about Francis, Bella Van Rijn's words echoing in his head. _He wasn't very loved here._

Yao Wang nodded. "Yes. Well-No. But yes. The quality of their performance varied a lot. Sometimes they seemed very passionate and convinving, other times they seemed very fake and distant, almost afraid to touch eachother. But it was better than this crap." He sighed, walking away from Vash, to a black bag lying in the corner of the room. "Do you have anything else to say? I would like to have dinner with the other dancers now.'

"Well actually-" Vash said, stomping towards him. "I've got one more question I want to ask you."

Yao didn't respond, instead starting to take of his shoes, unwrapping the ribbons around his ankles.

"Where were you when-" The feet were bent, colored an angry red, cracked nails and bloody toes surrounded by tape and bandaids.

"What are you staring at?" Yao snapped, looking up at Vash, dark eyes flashing with annoyance.

"Nothing." Vash responded curtly, trying to get a better look at Yao's feet. "Where were you when Francis Bonnefoy was murdered?"

The feet disappeared into black slippers and Yao gave him a disbelieving look.

"Really? Didn't you ask like all the other people that were there with me the exact same question? You know where I was, aru! I was in the ballroom!"

"If you say so, Mister Wang. Was Bella van Rijn, the female stylist, in the ballroom with you?"

Yao raised an eyebrow. "Do you suspect her?"

"That's none of your buisiness, mister Wang. Was she there or not?" Vash snapped.

"Sorry to disappoint you, Mister German, but you are on the wrong track. Yes she was with me in the ballroom that afternoon, just as Miss Herdevary, that grumpy stage painter, that cheerful stylist and the other one that won't shut up, aru. What kind of detective are you?"

"One who certaintly knows what he is doing and I am Swiss, not German, thank you very much." Vash growled.

Yao shrugged. "Whatever. I'm going to go now. The next time you interrupt my training you better have solved this mess." He picked up his black bag, stalking out of the room.

Vash groaned, rubbing his temples. He was so_ done _with these people.

* * *

**Zwingli Detectives**

_Vash Zwingli_

**Report**: _6_

**Date:** _3-4-2015_

**Crime:** _Murder_

**Place of crime: **_Building of the Hetaballet._

**Victim:** Francis Bonnefoy, _26, main role in "Wings"_

**Cause of death:** Beaten to death with a heavy metal object.

**Suspects:** Profession: _Notes:_

**Arthur Kirkland**,Ballet dancer,_Found on the crime scene, strong hatred towards victim._

**Antonio Carriedo**,Stylist, _was in the ballroom (according to E.H)_

**Gilbert Beilschmidt**,Stage technician _Was in the theatre (according to R.E)_

**Ludwig Beilschmidt**,Stage technician/builder

**Lovino Vargas**,Decor painter, _was in the ballroom (according to E.H)_

**Feliciano Vargas**,Ballet dancer

**Sesel Bonnefoy**,Ballet dancer,_Sister of the victim, at home under supervision_

**Elizaveta Herdevary** Ballet dancer/coach,Owner of HetaBallet._ Broken ankle, not able to dance or work. was in the ballroom. _**Interrogated**

**Roderich Edelstein** Ballet dancer, co-owner,Main role in "Wings", _dislike towards victim,__ was in the theatre,_ **I****nterrogated**

**Feliks Lukasiewicz** Stylist, _was in the ballroom (according to E.H)_ **Interrogated**

**Bella Van Rijn Stylist**,_Was in the ballroom (according to E.H) claims to know something (crucial?)_ **Interrogated  
**

**Natalia Braginski** Ballet dancer

**Ivan Braginski** Ballet dancer, _dislike towards victim_

**Yao Wang** Ballet Coach,_was in the ballroom (According to E.H)_ **Interrogated**

**Task for now:** _Confirm **Bella Van Rijn's** alibi._

* * *

**The next person to be interrogated is the angry stage painter ;) Thank you for reading. Every Follow, Favorite or Review is very much appreciated!_  
_**


	9. Alibi

**Omg this story has over a 1000 views! I'm so happy! Thank you so much! Please enjoy this chapter!**

* * *

The decor was simple, but breathtaking, gentle strokes of white, light brown and a pale shade of purple creating the illusion of a dune landscape, but at the same time looking like a pair of wings, spread out, ready to fly. At the left bottom corner of the stage stood Lovino Vargas, carefully applying the last strokes of white to the bottom of one of the gigantic wings. He moved the brush with tender, long movements, as if caressing the canvas. Another figure,which Vash could recognize as Bella Van Rijn ,with her slim waist and familiar black dress stood beside him, one hand placed on Lovino's shoulder, talking softly into his ear.

Vash scraped his throat loudly, stepping into the spotlights, causing the gentle line on the canvas to change into a big white stripe as both Lovino and Bella whirled around, paint splattering onto the floor.

Lovino let out a string of Italian curses, glaring at Vash while Bella gave him a wave and a wink, which Vash pointedly ignored.

"Bastardo! Look what you did to my painting!"

"Vash! How nice of you to come and see me!" Bella chirped, giving him what was supposed to be a kind smile but turned more into a grin.

Vash's eyebrow twitched. "_Entschuldigung_, Mister Vargas, Miss Van Rijn, to interrupt you, but I need to talk to Mister Vargas, _now_." He stated coolly, glaring at Bella, who cocked her head, giving him a calculating look.

"Oh? Are there any new developments in the cause, Vash?"

"It's Herr Zwingli for you, miss. Now, would you please be so kind to leave this room?"

The detective and the Belgian stared at eachother for a minute, her eyes twinkling, his eyes burning. Finally, she nodded, giving the painter, who was trying to cover up the stripe, muttering angrily to himself, a quick peck on the cheek. "Okay! See you later, Lovi!"

She left the theatre in a rush, the clicking of her high heels muffled by the thick, fancy ,red carpet. Vash turned towards Lovino, whose cheeks were bright red.

"Hello, my name is Vash Zwingli, private detective. I don't think we've met before." He said politely, extending his hand in the Italian's direction.

Lovino only glared at his hand before turning back to the canvas, causing Vash to forcefully extend his hand in front of Lovino's face, preventing him from continuing with his painting..

"In Switzerland, we shake peoples hand when we introduce ourselves!" He snapped, already fed up with this suspect.

Lovino raised a dark eyebrow, shaking Vash's hand weakly. "Yeah..alright. I'm Lovino Vargas. Why are you here? Is this an interrogation?"

Vash tried to conceal his surprised look and walked towards Lovino, hands stretched out in a calming gesture. "Calm down. I am just going to ask you a few questions. If you are innocent, there is no reason to be nervou-"

"I'm not nervous, you bastard!" Lovino snapped, eyebrows knitting together in a frown, stepping away from Vash.

"Alright. If you say so." Vash said, raising his eyebrows. "So..you are the decor painter here, huh? Forgive me if I am a bit blunt right now, but what is your opinion on Francis Bonnefoy?"

Lovino's eyes darkened and he spat on the ground, giving Vash a disapproving scowl. "Bonnefoy? Bastard. You know, he was one of those people!" He walked towards Vash, tossing his imaginary long tresses around.

"Like, adore me, love me because I am so gorgeous and amazing! I am the best! He charmed himself out of every fucking nasty situation and nobody could do anything about it because he had Elizaveta wrapped around his fucking little finger!"

He turned around, raising his paintbrush to the canvas again, dabbing into the white paint with furious, short strokes. Vash watched the back of his angry, dark haired head, scratching his chin.

"Thank you for your answer, Mister Vargas. Now, where were you when Francis Bonnefoy was murdered?"

Lovino whirled back to Vash immediately, giving him a panicked look. "I was in the ballroom! Why do you ask this? Do you suspect me?"

Vash narrowed his eyes, giving Lovino a suspicious look. "And..who were in the ballroom with you?"

"Antonio, Feliks, Bella, Yao, Elizaveta and..Feliciano."

_Feliciano!?_

"Excuse me?" Vash asked, confused.

Lovino shifted uncomfortably. "Feliciano. My brother."

"Your brother was there.._in the ballroom_..with you and Mister Carriedo, Mister Lukasiewicz, Miss Herdevary, Mister Wang and Miss Van Rijn?"

Lovino nodded. Vash grabbed his own hair in frustration. "_Nein! Scheisse!_"

Now it was the Italian's turn to look confused. "What is it? What's wrong?"

Vash growled, stomping around the stage, the wood creaking beneath his feet. "_Scheisse!_ Now I have to interrogate everyone all over again and-GAH!"

He threw his notebook on the ground, seemingly forgetting that Lovino was still in the room. "Why can't anobody be fucking honest for once! I just-Argh! Nothing's right anymore! Everybody lied and nobody has a motive anymore and-I HAVE TO START ALL OVER AGAIN!" He raged against himself, kicking his notebook of the stage.

Lovino let out a frightened sound, causing Vash to turn around, panting heavily, glaring at Lovino, who had taken another few steps back. His green eyes widened.

"Unless-" He pointed a shaky hand in Lovino's direction. "Unless you're lying."

Lovino's expression became even more uncomfortable. Vash's lips curled into a smile and he let out a relieved cackle.

"You're lying! Your brother wasn't there in the ballroom with you!"

Lovino bit his lip and hung his head in guilt, causing Vash to relax.

"You're trying to protect him, why?"

Lovino shrugged, suddenly darting forward, grabbing Vash by the collar of his coat. "I lied! _Scusi_! _Mi fratello_ doesn't have to do anything with it! I swear! He adored Francis! He was just in the wrong place at the wrong time!"

"What do you mean by that?"

"He would never do such a thing! He just happened to be talking to Francis right before he died, I swear! He's innocent, _please_!"

Vash didn't reply, instead slapped Lovino's hands off him before jumping off the stage, looking for his notebook. This was some major progress. He didn't have to start all over again. He smiled, stuffing his notebook into his pocket, walking towards the exit.

"Potatobastard,_wait_!" Vash turned around to see Lovino running towards him. "Do you not want to know who I suspect?

Vash raised an eyebrow. "I heavily doubt that's necessary, Mister Vargas, as you just made your own brother one of the head suspects in the case. I think it is better for your sake if you'd just shut up otherwise you could make things worse for your brother by making up a theory on the spot."

"I didn't make this up on the spot! I suspect Kirkland! The teabastard!"

Vash let out a mocking laugh. "Yeah, sure. Just like your little girlfriend." Before Lovino could respond, he stalked out of the room, already taking his phone out of his pocket to inform Lukas of the new developments.

* * *

_"Vash, I've got news for you."_

"Well, isn't that a coincidence, I've got something I want to discuss with you too."

_"Alright, we will talk about that soon. But this is very important for the bereaved of the victim, so if you please would be so kind to inform them as soon as possible."_

"Alright, what is it?"

_"The coroners are done with the investigation of the body. I will send you the results soon. The body is ready to be buried."_

"That is fantastic news. I'll be sure to inform everyone here as soon as possible. Could you please ask Alfred to contact Sesel Bonnefoy, make sure she's at the funeral too."

_"Sure. But..are you going to allow everybody else to attend the funeral?"_

"Well..I'm pretty sure some of them want to pay their colleague their last respects, so I think we would have to break the do-not-leave-the-building-until-the-case-is-solved rule."

_"I would keep a close eye on them if I were you."_

"Don't worry Lucas. I will. I'm buried to deep inside of this case to let anything-"

* * *

"HERR ZWINGLI! HERR ZWINGLI!" Vash looked up, almost dropping his phone as he saw Elizaveta Herdevary hobbling towards him, tears in her eyes.

"You have to come, quick!" She panted. "Something terrible has happened!"

* * *

**Zwingli Detectives**

_Vash Zwingli_

**Report**: _7_

**Date:** 4_-4-2015_

**Crime:** _Murder_

**Place of crime: **_Building of the Hetaballet._

**Victim:** Francis Bonnefoy, _26, main role in "Wings"_

**Cause of death:** Beaten to death with a heavy metal object.

**Suspects:** Profession: _Notes:_

**Arthur Kirkland**,Ballet dancer,_Found on the crime scene, strong hatred towards victim._

**Antonio Carriedo**,Stylist, _was in the ballroom (according to E.H)_

**Gilbert Beilschmidt**,Stage technician _Was in the theatre (according to R.E)_

**Ludwig Beilschmidt**,Stage technician/builder

**Lovino Vargas**,Decor painter, _was in the ballroom (according to E.H), made up an alibi for his brother_**Interrogated**

**Feliciano Vargas**,Ballet dancer, _last one to talk to victim before he was murdered_.

**Sesel Bonnefoy**,Ballet dancer,_Sister of the victim, at home under supervision_

**Elizaveta Herdevary** Ballet dancer/coach,Owner of HetaBallet._ Broken ankle, not able to dance or work. was in the ballroom. _**Interrogated**

**Roderich Edelstein** Ballet dancer, co-owner,Main role in "Wings", _dislike towards victim,__ was in the theatre,_ **I****nterrogated**

**Feliks Lukasiewicz** Stylist, _was in the ballroom (according to E.H)_ **Interrogated**

**Bella Van Rijn Stylist**,_Was in the ballroom (according to E.H) claims to know something (crucial?)_ **Interrogated  
**

**Natalia Braginski** Ballet dancer

**Ivan Braginski** Ballet dancer, _dislike towards victim_

**Yao Wang** Ballet Coach,_was in the ballroom (According to E.H)_ **Interrogated**

**Task for now:** _Confirm **Bella Van Rijn's** alibi._

* * *

**We're making major progress now! Sooo..a really exciting cliffhanger (not really -_-) and a mini-outburst from Vash. Poor dude, the complexity of the plot is getting to his head! As long as it doesn't get to my head we'll be fine! Thank you so much for reading! Reviews, Follows and Favorites are very much appreciated. Feedback and speculations are welcome too!**


	10. Fair Game

**Thanks for the reviews. Enjoy this chapter!**

* * *

_Bonjour, my dear ex-colleagues,_

_It's such a shame it all had to end like this._

_We all used to be so close to eachother._

_At least, we pretended to be._

_The performance was very convincing._

_On stage, and behind the scenes._

_I loved you all, I truly did._

_Even though I heard all your whispers, insults, behind my back._

_But who am I to judge?_

_I wasn't completely honest after all._

_My death has proven once again that the things you do will be thrown right back at you, stab you in the back, or should I say, hit you on the head?_

_It's fun to play games, but you'll have to play fair and unfortunately, I didn't play fair._

_There are some people in the cast who know exactly what I'm talking about. They are just like me, they are cheaters, they do not play fair._

_Cheaters will be punished._

_People know who you are, they know what you've done. They know who murdered me._

_But hey, things will always have a bright side_

_Not for me, but for you._

_There's something you can do to keep your little secrets from getting spilled._

_If you refuse, you'll probably follow in my footsteps._

_It would be a shame if that cute, Swiss detective had to investigate another crime scene, wouldn't it?_

_Further information will follow, I know how to contact you,mes amis_

_I would take care if I were you._

_Bisous,_

_Your 'prima ballerina'_

_Francis Bonnefoy_

* * *

"W-why would someone do something like this?" Elizaveta stammered, trying to keep her voice steady.

"Intimidation, miss Herdevary. This letter is written by someone who posesses no respect for the dead _at all_. It's solemly purpose is to spread rumors and alarm people." Vash mumbled, tearing the paper from where it had been taped to the door of Francis' dressing room, turning towards his worried audience.

"People, there is no need to panic. Everything will be under control. Please report to me if 'Francis' tries to contact you in any way, may that be by phone, letter or social media. I will try to solve this as quick as possible."

"Herr Zwingli, I can't believe you think everything will be under control. Some unknown moron is threatening to kill one of us!" Roderich Edelstein snapped, running a hand through his hair, giving Vash a frustrated look.

"I know Herr Edelstein, but I promise I will keep all of you safe. Nobody is allowed to roam around the building with less than three people, unless you are with me. We will all sleep together in one room, the ballroom. We will catch the culprit and the one who did this, that is, if they aren't the same person." Vash said, carefully putting the letter into a bag.

"B-but what if-a it is Francis' ghost who is-a trying to contact us?" A high pitched voice chirped from behind Ludwig Beilschmidt's broad figure.

"My brother is right. What if the wine basta-Francis. What if Francis is angry at me because I insulted him so many times?" Lovino Vargas, who had followed Vash towards the crime-scene, snarled, looking at Vash with frightened eyes.

"What if the ghost like, totally wants to harm us because we all said so many mean things about him?" Feliks exclaimed, clutching Bella van Rijn's shoulder tightly.

"Then I suggest Arthur better keeps both his eyes open when he sleeps, da?" Ivan Braginski said cheerfully, his sister nodding in agreement.

Arthur Kirkland wheeled around to glare at the tall Russian. "What the bloody hell is that supposed to mean?" He huffed, causing Gilbert Beilschmidt to walk towards him, red eyes almost spitting venom.

"It means," He hissed, pushing Arthur back against the wall. "That you better just kill yourself at the spot right now because you never had anything nice to say about Franny, du ficking Arschloch!"

"What..well..it's not..he insulted me too!" Arthur spluttered, but the rest of the cast was already jeering or hissing injults at him.

"Coward!"

"Scum!"

"Damen und Herren, please calm down-" Vash began.

"Murderer." Gilbert hissed, stepping closer to Arthur.

_Crack._ Most people winced when they heard Arthur's hand hit Gilbert's cheek. The next second they were fighting, trashing around on the ground wildly, howling, biting, scratching, kicking-

"HERR BEILSCHMIDT! MISTER KIRKLAND! STOP THIS NONSENSE! _NOW_!" Vash roared, stalking towards the two men, pushing Kirkland of the albino.

"I am disappointed in _all_ of you." Vash rattled, face flushed, roughly pulling Gilbert from the floor. "You are all responsible adults and I want you to stop blindly accusing eachother. _For god's sake, let me do my job!_ Ghosts do not exist. I repeat: GHOSTS DON'T EXIST! This is the work of someone who wants to set all of you up against eachother! Please let me do the work and stop acting like you know everything. Be honest and tell me everything you know! Only this way we'll manage to solve this mess! I was going to let you leave the building to attend Mister Bonnefoy's funeral but now that I look at you I don't know if you'll be able to behave yourselves!"

"F-franny's funeral?" Gilbert stammered, locking eyes with Antonio. "W-will there be red roses? Will the coffin be colourful? He said he hated those boring coffins..What music will there be playing?'

"How is his hair going to be done? He was very proud of it.." Felicano said softly, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye.

"C-can we say something…like a small speech?" Elizaveta said, wrapping a comforting arm around Feli.

"Ofcourse you can." Vash said reassuringly. "The funeral will be in two days, I will invite Miss Bonnefoy and mister Bonnefoy's relatives. Also, me and a few other members from my team will be present too, to make sure everything is going fine. I will grant mister Carriedo and mister Beilschmidt permission to see the body and make sure mister Bonnefoy is prepared for his last..journey. I will see you two in my office tomorrow. Everyone just take care, watch yourselves and eachother, and tell me if you notice anything remarkable. You can go now. Have a nice day."

The crew slowly departed, mumbling softy to eachother, leaving only Elizaveta, Roderich and Vash standing in front of Francis' door.

"I am so sorry for everything Herr Zwingli." Elizaveta said, teary eyed. "I never knew those nice people I worked with would be able to do such horrible things."

"It is not your fault, Liza" Roderich said, placing a comforting hand on Elizaveta's shoulder, frowning slightly when she slapped it off.

"I wasn't talking to you!" The Hungarian woman snapped, giving Vash an apologetic look before stalking away. "Good luck with your investigation, Herr Zwingli."

Vash and Edelstein stared at eachother for a minute, Vash giving the Austrian a questioning look, before Roderich huffed and stomped away, leaving Vash alone with his own thoughts.

* * *

**No police report because there is no interrogation. The story is starting to get a little bit darker now.. Who wrote the letter? I really appreciate all kinds of reviews; feedback, speculations, praise, random crap, they all make me happy :) Thank you for reading. Also: I'm leaving for Italy in like two days so there won't be any chapters uploaded for two weeks. I will probably write them, and upload them as soon as I come home. Sorry about that :/**


	11. Cupboards

**Hello people. As I am uploading this, I am probably home again. I am very ashamed to say that after two weeks in Italy the only thing I have to offer you is this enormous chapter that was an absolute bitch to write. I will split it up in 2 parts because it is just to long (Almost 3000 words! That is huge compared to the usual size of my chapters!) Tomorrow I will upload the second part of this, so today it's only this tiny chapter. Hopefully this doesn't bother you too much! I hope you'll still be able to enjoy it in a way!**

* * *

Vash had always had a bit of trouble with social situations and gatherings, but all of that was nothing compared to the struggle of attending a funeral of someone he hadn't even known. This was downright devastating. The teary faces, speaking fondly of a person he had nothing to say about, a man who was at first nothing more to him than a picture in an investigation folder, who was becoming more of a human now.

Vash's mind was strictly organized, diveded in two sections: Work and Feelings. Work and Feelings were like two large cupboards, with countless little drawers, each one labeled. Vash carefully placed everything he was attached to into the Feelings cupboard, and he never allowed those things to end up into the Work section, because he simply couldn't, he didn't know what would happen after. The Closet Case, as Alfred called it, turned his whole system into goo, the cupboards crashing into eachother, Work colliding with Feelings and turning into an emotional mush, as he listened tp Sesel Bonnefoy talking about her brother, begging to remember Francis Bonnefoy as the kind and loving man he was, not the deformed corpse he was found as, cruelly murdered by one of his friends.

Her words hit something close to home, as he suddenly imagined losing his sister. Only the thought of Lily lying in Francis' position, ghostly pale and bloody, was enough to make the mess in his head leek through his eyes, rolling over his cheeks.

Vash let out a shuddery gasp, closing his fingers around a cool glass, not even looking at the liquid, dawning the entire thing in one big gulp. A chair scraped beside him and he quickly looked down, staring intently into his glass, pretending he was invisible.

"What a tragical day it is today, isn't it?" A familiar and flat voice. Vash grumbled something in agreement, reaching for another glass as Lukas sat beside him. "Especially if you realize one of those mourning people in here is the one who murdered poor mister Bonnefoy."

"I know." Vash said hoarsely, quickly scanning the other attendents, who were giving eachother their condoleances, his green eyes resting a little longer on Elizaveta Herdevary and Roderich Edelstein, who appeared to be arguing, Elizaveta hissing angrily into Roderich's ear while he just gave her an annoyed look. He felt Lukas' eyes on him, and he turned back to the Norwegian, who leant closer to him.

"You look tired." He simply stated, causing Vash to shrug.

"It's just-"

Lukas placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "I know. Trust me. Did you find out anything about the letter yet?"

"No. I have read it at least a thousand times, looking for clues, but the writer uses very vague language. The message is very clear though. Comparing handwritings will not be of any use either, since the letter is completely typed out." Vash sighed.

"Do you think the writer actually knows something, or if he or she just made something up?" Lukas asked, checking the room for any unwanted audiences.

"I think something horrible or scandalous has happened in the past, involving Francis and some other members from the cast, and the writer knows about it and is angry at them for it. I don't have the slightest clue who could've been involved though, as 'Francis' hasn't tried to contact anyone just yet." Vash said gloomily, reaching for another glass.

"Why would someone threaten to kill their own colleagues? Money? An argument? Jealousy?" Lukas pondered, scratching his chin.

"Jealousy would be a very good reason, I think. Francis was the main dancer, after all. From what I've heard, he was quite the bragger. People didn't like him very much, apperantly."

"Maybe someone was tired of always being the second choi-" Lukas abruptly stopped talking when a third person joined at their table, agressively reaching for the whiskey.

The detectives looked at eachother, Lukas giving Vash a meaningful look, gesturing to the third man, who was slumped against the table, apperantly under the impression he was on his own. He was muttering angrily to himself, shakily bringing the glass, which was filled to the brim, to his chapped lips, sighing contently, liquid dripping from his chin, spilling over his tie and jacket.

Vash scraped his throat, a pair of green eyes widening at the sight of him. "Well hello sir, as you'll probably know by now, my name is Vash Zwingli and-"

The chair toppled over, the glass falling to the ground in sparkling shambles, whiskey splattering everywhere as the man pushed the other attendants aside in his race for the door.

* * *

**Cliffhangeeeer ;) Who is this man? (I think it is not that hard to guess.) I think I should add that Lukas and Vash are at Francis' funeral in this chapter. You know..like when the person is already buried and everyone just gets together and talks and stuff. Italy was great btw. Lake Como is very beautiful! I would definitely recommend going there! Thank you for reading! See ya tomorrow!**


	12. Accused

**Welcome back! Enjoy!**

* * *

"Mister Kirkland! I want- No, I DEMAND you to stop right _NOW_!" Vash yelled, almost tripping over a tombstone while he followed the fleeing figure across the graveyard. "Stop or I will arrest you _immidiately_!"

Arthur turned around, a sneer on his face. "Leave me alone!" He snarled, barely audible over the sound of the pouring rain. He took off again, cutting trough hedges and fields in order to get the Swiss detective of his back.

"Where were you when Francis Bonnefoy was murdered?"

"FUCK OFF!"

"You know.." Vash panted, struggling to keep up with the dancer, who had a lean but muscular body and an excellent condition. "You're only drawing more suspision towards yourself by fleeing from me!"

"I am innocent!"

"You are in no position to draw more suspision to yourself, Mister Kirkland!" Vash warned, trying to keep his wet hair out of his face, the rain chilling him to the bone.

Arthur threw him a panicked glance over his shoulder. "Shut up!"

"JUST ANSWER MY FUCKING QUESTIONS, KIRKLAND! WHERE WERE YOU WHEN FRANCIS BONNEFOY WAS MURDERED?"

"That's none of your bloody buisiness!"

Vash roared, lunging forward, trying to grab Arthur's sleeve. He cursed as the fabric slipped through his fingers, his feet slipping on the wet cobblestones. Arthur turned around just in time to see Swiss detective crash into the ground, and the Brit cackled in relief.

"Answer me!" Vash panted, trying to push himself upright, hissing as his burning hands scraped across the cold stone. "Did you murder him?"

He balled his hands into fists as Arthur ignored him, feeling his own cheeks flush with anger.

"Did you do it? _Did you watch as the light left his eyes after you bashed his head in?_ ANSWER ME!" He screamed, feeling something warm drip from the side of his face onto his hands as he crawled forward towards the Brit, who'd stopped dead in his tracks.

Arthur slowly turned around, coldly looking down at the detective. "Why would I such a thing? Why would I murder the frog?" He stated calmly, extending his hand towards Vash.

Vash ignored the outstretched hand and quickly got to his feet, standing so close to his headsuspect their noses were almost touching. He carefully studied the Brit. He looked bad, Vash noticed immediately, very bad. His cheeks were hollow and he had large purple bags underneath his eyes. He tried to keep his face neutral but Vash could see flashes of blind panic crossing the piercing, green eyes. The overall picture, with messy hair, a stained suit and rain dripping down his face reminded him of a lost puppy.

"Oh, I don't know, because you hated him, perhaps?" Vash said coolly, running a casual hand through his hair, trying to ignore that the hand was stained red as he returned it to his side.

A bony hand grabbed his collar, and suddenly he found himself forced to look up into a pair of furious green eyes.

"Who told you I murdered Francis!? It was _her,_ wasn't it?" Arthur hissed, roughly shaking his interrogator.

"I don't know who the fuck you are talking about, Kirkland." Vash snarled, trying to pry the hands of his collar.

"_That bloody bitch!_ Van Rijn!" Arthur had completely dropped the calm facade by now, face twisted in an expression which was a mix between fright and absolute rage. He shook Vash again. "She's lying, I'm telling you! She is nothing but a backstabbing bitch who tries to ruin peoples lives!"

He released Vash, staring at the detective with wide eyes. "They all suspect me. Everyone is against me."

His lower lip started to tremble.

"Mister Kirkland-_Arthur_-" Vash began, internally panicking, because he wasn't really sure how to handle a fully grown, crying man,but he was cut off by Arthur's shriek.

"_EASY_, ISN'T IT? Blame everything on Arthur fucking Kirkland, because he couldn't stand the sight of that arrogant French slut!"

He hid his face into his hands, tugging on his straw-blonde hair, his sleeves traveling up his arm, revealing bruised forearms. He shrieked again. "LET ARTHUR KIRKLAND TAKE THE SHIT SO THEY CAN SAVE THEIR OWN SORRY ASSES!"

"Mister Kirkland, please calm down. If you are truly innocent, I will prove it."" Vash said cautiously, taking a few steps back.

The straw-blonde head snapped towards him, staring at Vash with wide eyes, breathing heavily.

"I wanted to kill him, ofcourse." He laughed, a high-pitched, insane sound, causing the hairs on the back of Vash's neck to rise.

"Oooh, I would've murdered him! The bloody frog has been ruining my life since we were kids!"

Vash opened his mouth again, but decided against it as Arthur glared in his direction, a ridiculous, disbelieving smile on his face. "I've known Francis since we were kids. We grew up together, in the same neighbourhood. When I was with him, I was always second best. He had the better looks, was a better dancer and had a better attitude. I'm pretty sure he was only friends with me out of _PITY_!" He paused for a moment, swallowing audibly. "I moved here, to the US, convinced I would finally be the number one for once. _For once_!" He cackled hysterically, causing Vash to search the pockets of his coat for a weapon.

"But _NO_!" Arthur laughed. "Guess who showed up after a few years? Interrupting my quiet life, stealing my small spotlight, trampling the beginnings of a serious career?_ Exactly._ Francis fucking Bonnefoy. He was so damn smug about it too. He loved showering himself in Elizaveta's attention, probably just to spite me. He stole my big chance to finally get a main role, but you know? That was okay."

He gave Vash an unconvincing nod. "I-it was okay. I could take it. I didn't mind fighting for my own spot, you know, even though it was unfair. But then.." His voice broke. "Getting all the attention was apperently not enough for _monsieur prima ballerina_, he had to destroy everything...my own passion, my job, my chance."

"What did he do to you?" Vash said sternly, loosening the grip on the gun in his pocket.

"He..he was the one who ruined it for all of us. He wrecked Elizaveta and Roderich's marriage. _He destroyed the whole ballet."_

Arthur Kirkland finally cracked. He fell to his knees, sobbing hysterically. "Oh, how I would've liked to murder him! But when I saw his body..he used to be so handsome..but he was all, broken and ugly. Finally I was the more handsome one, but it made me feel sick to my stomach, it made me regret all the times I wished him dead."

He glanced up at Vash, teary-eyed, eyebrows crumpling into a frown. "Why am I telling you all of this!? You believe _them_, after all. You are only here to arrest me."

An awkward silence followed, Vash wiping raindrops from his nose for what felt like the 100th time while Arthur just sniffled.

"I believe no one but myself, mister Kirkland. Nobody will be arrested until I found convincing evidence." Vash stated coldly, returning to his normal, buisinesslike self. " The main reason you are suspected is because you were found on the crime scene, clutching the body, not because miss Van Rijn likes to gossip. Now tell me, if you didn't murder Francis Bonnefoy, why were you there?"

* * *

**_"Get out of my eyes, putain!"_**

_Arthur didn't even hear Sesel Bonnefoy's shrieked insult. He was angry, seeing nothing but red, hearing nothing but his own feet stomping away from the balcony, away from her, through the hallway and his heart pounding in his chest. He felt furious and miserable and it was all Francis' fault. He was going to lose everything. The curtains were going to finally close for the HetaBallet, the stage was going to collapse, the people were going to leave, and they would take Arthur's hopes and dreams with them. He couldn't take this. _

_He was running now, the tiled floor becoming a blur underneath him, the edges of his vision fading into black, and he felt like he was losing all control. He grasped his hair, tugging, tugging harder, closing his eyes, squeezing, squeezing harder, maybe it was all a dream, maybe he would wake up now. Torn out hair in his hands and tears on his cheeks and it hurt, but it was nothing compared to the ache in his chest and he wanted to scream. He wanted to scream until his throat would dry out and his legs would collapse. He wanted to scream along with the voices in his mind._

_It took him a while to figure out that the screams weren't his own._

_Storage room. He was panicking now, breathing rapidly. The door opened, he stumbled inside._

_A figure, curled up on the floor, sobbing, screaming. Those blue eyes he had known for so long, always twinkling with happiness, now shining with tears, looking up at him. This was what he had dreamed of, Francis Bonnefoy, his childhood friend, rival, archenemy, at his feet, crying, defeated, blood running from his beloved hair over his face, but somehow it wasn't quite right. Francis' lips were forming words, he was talking to him, a bloody hand pointing at something behind him, Arthur realized, too late. He saw stars, and suddenly the floor was approaching him rather quickly._

_Black, nothing but his own heavy panting. Suddenly a voice in the background. __Francis._

_Arthur opened his eyes, lifting his head of the floor, trying to get a grasp of reality._

**_"Non! S'il te plaît!-Don't...you are not yourself right now! Spare his life..pl-"_**

_**Thunk**. Everything grew quiet._

_Pain. Pain everywhere. Silence, darkness. No sounds. It looked like he was on his own. Arthur pushed himself up, ignoring the warm liquid that was dripping from his nose and the aching pain in his chest and neck, staggering across the room, blindly searching for the lightswitch. As the lights blinked, they illuminated something that would forever haunt Arthur Kirklands dreams, keeping him up at night, causing him to hallucinate and become even more paranoid then he already was._

_The body was broken and bent, sprawled against the cardboard boxes, as if it were thrown away without a single care. The limbs were bruised, dark blotches adorning the pale, yellow skin. The stench was filthy and sour and Arthur gagged, slowly sinking to his knees.._

* * *

"So you didn't see the person who hit you?" Vash asked, watching Arthur intently.

The Brit could only nod shakily, trying very hard to get himself together. For the first time since they had started their conversation, Arthur looked directly at Vash, eyes full of despair.

"No..I didn't. And now-now eveybody thinks it was me...But I could never do such a thing. Not to Francis, not to anyone! Mister Zwingli, please. Whatever they may say, I am innocent, I swear!" Arthur hiccuped. "Please believe me."

"I do, mister Kirkland." Vash said softly, staring at his own reflection, depressed and tired, the left side of his face covered in a mix of blood, rain and mud, reflected in the puddle of rain that had formed underneath their feet. "I do believe you."

* * *

**Zwingli Detectives**

_Vash Zwingli_

**Report**: _8_

**Date:** 6_-4-2015_

**Crime:** _Murder_

**Place of crime: **_Building of the Hetaballet._

**Victim:** Francis Bonnefoy, _26, main role in "Wings" (Caused Edelstein &amp; Herdevary to break up/ end of HetaBallet?)_

**Cause of death:** Beaten to death with a heavy metal object. Suspect probably used gloves.

**Suspects:** Profession: _Notes:_

**Arthur Kirkland**,Ballet dancer,_Found on the crime scene, strong hatred towards victim. (Knocked out on the crime scene?) _**Interrogated**

**Antonio Carriedo**,Stylist, _was in the ballroom (according to E.H)_

**Gilbert Beilschmidt**,Stage technician _Was in the theatre (according to R.E)_

**Ludwig Beilschmidt**,Stage technician/builder

**Lovino Vargas**,Decor painter, _was in the ballroom (according to E.H), made up an alibi for his brother_**Interrogated**

**Feliciano Vargas**,Ballet dancer, _last one to talk to victim before he was murdered_.

**Sesel Bonnefoy**,Ballet dancer,_Sister of the victim, at home under supervision_

**Elizaveta Herdevary** Ballet dancer/coach,Owner of HetaBallet._ Broken ankle, not able to dance or work. was in the ballroom. _**Interrogated**

**Roderich Edelstein** Ballet dancer, co-owner,Main role in "Wings", _dislike towards victim,__ was in the theatre,_ **I****nterrogated**

**Feliks Lukasiewicz** Stylist, _was in the ballroom (according to E.H)_ **Interrogated**

**Bella Van Rijn Stylist**,_Was in the ballroom (according to E.H) claims to know something (crucial?)_ **Interrogated  
**

**Natalia Braginski** Ballet dancer

**Ivan Braginski** Ballet dancer, _dislike towards victim_

**Yao Wang** Ballet Coach,_was in the ballroom (According to E.H)_ **Interrogated**

**Task for now:** _Confirm **Bella Van Rijn's** alibi._

_ Find out who wrote the letter (Quick!)_

* * *

**_I_t doesn't matter what kind of story I write, my England always ends up like this angsty, batshit insane, pathetic person :/ If you want to,let me know what you think of the story so far! Thank you for reading!**


	13. Pasta

**Hi! Sorry it took so long, I was struggling a bit with the storyline, but I've figured it out now! Enjoy!**

* * *

"Mister..Vargas?"

The Italian immediately turned his head towards Vash, staring at him with wide eyes. "What is it?"

"The pasta is delicious."

Feliciano visibly relaxed, lips curling into his trademark, carefree smile. "_Grazi_, mister Zwingli. Would you like some more?"

"Well..I don't think-no-no-" Vash awkwardly stared as the Italian scooped another generous amount of spaghetti on his plate.

"You know, it makes me really happy when people enjoy my pasta. It's such a great food, you know? There are endless possibilities: Different sauces, different kinds of pasta, different kinds of meat-" The Italian chittered happily as he completely drowned the spaghetti in Bolognese sauce.

Vash internally groaned, feeling as if he'd been stuffed with bricks. There was no way in hell he would be able toe at all of that. He was beginning to wonder what he was doing here, in Feliciano's dressing room, instead of rereading his reports or discussing his theories with Lukas over the phone, stuffing his face with spaghetti Bolognese.

"I'm so happy you like it so much, mister Zwingli. Most people will only eat a small bit of the plates I bring them, saying that I am too obsessed with pasta. But you can't be too obsessed! When it's about pasta there are no limits." The Italian blabbered on, using a lot of vague hand movements, ignoring the way the detective clutches his stomach in discomfort.

"Mister Vargas-" Vash began, only to be cut off by two arms wrapping tightly around his neck.

"Oh please, mister detective, call me Feli! We are all friends after all, si?" Said a bubbly voice very close to his ear, causing Vash to squirm in discomfort.

_This goofball is one of my head suspects?_, Vash thought to himself,trying to free himself out of the hug while Feli continued to ramble about friendship and pasta.

"Feli-" He wheezed, now using all his strength to escape. "Is there any specific reason why you asked me to come over besides feeding me your pasta?"

The Italian immediately tensed, drawing his arms away from Vash, taking a few steps back, pale faced. "U-uh.." He stammered, anxiety flashing in his dark eyes for a second.

"N-no..not really, hehe." He said quickly, flashing Vash a wide smile, which truly couldn't fool anybody, especially not a stoic detective whose favorite hobbys were checking underneath the couch pillows for money and threatening to shoot his sister's possible boyfriends.

Vash frowned, looking Feliciano straight in the eye. "Is there something you want to tell me? Has it something to do with Francis? Where were you when Francis Bonnefoy was murdered?"

Feliciano gulped audibly, giving Vash a look that seemed almost relieved. "Me? I was with Ludwig, here, in my dressing room!"

"Oh, okay. What were you doing in here?." Vash said, his neutral expression quickly dropping at the sight of Feliciano's flushed cheeks and dopey smile. "Okay forget what I said_ I don't think I want to know._"

"Luddy was comforting me. He is such a good friend, he is strong and smart and his head always turns such a nice shade of red whenever I try to hug him. Sometimes we bake together while wearing matching pink aprons!"Feli chirped happily, bouncing up and down on his feet.

Vash shook his head at the image of the serious German man baking cupcakes in a pink apron. _The ridiculous amount of pasta was getting to his head._

"Why was he comforting you?" The Swiss detective asked quickly, wanting to get rid of the disturbing thoughts.

Feli's smile dropped and he scratched his head uncomfortably. "Oh..wel..I was a little upset..after Big Brother Francis talked to me.."

"Aha." Vash said sharply. "I heard you were the last one to talk to mister Francis before he was murdered. What did he say to you?"

Feliciano's lower lip began to tremble. "A-a lot of things.."

A tear rolled over his cheek, causing Vash to panic.

"Mister Vargas, please calm down." He pleaded, unsure whether to comfort the Italian or not.

"I-i'm sorry, sir." Feli hiccuped, furiously wiping his eyes. "But..but I really don't like seeing Big Brother Francis sad..he is..was..always such a happy person."

"Okay, Feliciano." Vash said slowly. He had to handle this with patience. "Could you please tell me what happened between you and your 'Big Brother' Francis? Why was he sad?"

* * *

_"Francis, can you believe it? It's only a few weeks until the first performance of Wings! Aren't you excited? You're going to be a star!" Feliciano chirped, giving the taller Frenchman an admiring look._

_His Big Brother did however, look far from excited. "Feli, I've got to talk to you about something." He said softly, gesturing to Feli to sit beside him._

_"Ofcourse Big Brother, what is it?" Feli said happily, bouncing in his seat. It wasn't untill he came closer to Francis that he noticed his red rimmed eyes. "Are you okay?" He asked anxiously, even more alarmed when Francis didn't respond. "Fran? What's wrong?"_

_Francis gave him a broken smile. "Oh..It's nothing chouchou, I'm just feeling a bit sad, that's all."_

_Feliciano Vargas didn't understand much of the world, but there was one things he absolutely understood. "Well..If you are sad, we've got to cheer you up, no? Why don't you come over to my house, and we can eat a big bowl of pasta together. That'll make you feel better right? Pasta makes everyone feel better!"_

_Strangely enough, Francis didn't laugh at his antics like he usually did. Instead, he just hid his face in his hands and let out a shaky sigh. "Oh cher.."_

_Feli pouted for a second, confused. "Come on, don't be so sad." He said in a sing-song voice, clumsily rubbing his head against Francis' shoulder, like a cat would. "I've got Bolognese sauce~"_

_Francis let out a laugh, a bitter sound. "Oh Feli, if only it were that easy..I don't think les pates will be able to solve my problems…"_

_Feliciano didn't like this side of Francis. He had never seen Big Brother like this. It made him feel very uncomfortable, like something terrible was about to happen. The old Francis had to return._

_"Well..every problem can be solved, right? We'll find a way together!" He said, lightly grasping Francis' hand, gasping when the Frenchman tightened his grip. _

_"Hey, hey.." He stammered as Francis let out a choked sob. "Don't cry! What's the matter? Are you hurt? Do your feet hurt from all the dancing? Ludwig gives great massages, he could take a look at your feet!"_

_"Non, cher..it hurts in here." Francis hiccuped, placing Feli's hand on his chest. Feliciano's eyes widened._

_"Someone hurt your heart? Who was it, Francis?"_

_"Me." Francis sobbed, drawing the Italian in a tight hug. Feliciano frowned. Francis hurt his own heart? But why would he do such a thing? He had no idea, but it didn't look like Francis was about to tell him either. So he just sat there, inhaling the strong smell of Francis' perfume, running a comforting hand through the soft blonde locks._

_After a while, Francis lifted his head to look at Feli. "Love is a very dangerous thing, cher. It'll sneak into your heart and tear it to shreds, leaving you only with broken pieces and a never ending feeling of guilt or remorse."_

_"I'm not really sure if I know what you're talking about." Feliciano said softly. He didn't understand. Why was Francis acting so strange?_

_"Feliciano." Francis said shakily, cupping Feli's cheek. Francis never called him by his full name. "You are like a brother to me, you'll always be in my heart."_

_"Fran, why are you saying these things?" Feliciano stammered, holding Francis' hand in a vice like grip, his knuckles turning white._

_"Frere, make sure they'll find a good replacement for me. I wouldn't want the show to be ruined because of me." Francis said gently, stroking Feli's cheek, giving him a small smile._

_"NO! Big Brother, you are not leaving, are you?" Feliciano panicked. What was happening? Why would he leave? Francis can't leave!_

_"Feli, I don't deserve this. I don't deserve the main role. I don't deserve you being so nice to me.." Francis said, giving the Italian a forced smile._

_"What are you talking about? You are a fantastic dancer! Ofcourse you deserve the main role! Lizzy thinks so too!" Feli cried, trying to pull Francis closer to him._

_Francis grimaced at the mention of the name before looking straight into Feliciano's eyes._

_"You know how to make people happy, Feli. Use that gift. Don't be stupid, don't be selfish. Don't be like me."_

_He bent forward, kissing Feliciano on both cheeks, gently ruffling his hair. "Au revoir, Feliciano."_

_Just like that, the door slammed shut, leaving Feliciano sitting there in shock until Ludwig found him and the tears started coming._

* * *

"Just like that..he left.." Feliciano said softly. "U-until we found him again..like..you know.."

Vash nodded in understanding. "Thank you for telling me this. If you want to talk to someone else about it, my psychologist will come over soon. I can make an appointment if you want."

"Yeah..that'd be great." Feli muttered, causing the two of them to fall into awkward silence.

After a while, Vash scraped his throat. "So..what was the reason why you wanted me to come over?"

The Italian froze on the spot. "W-what?"

"Well.._you know_. You didn't think I forgot that, _did you_?" Vash said coolly. When Feliciano didn't respond, he decided to try another way. "Can I have some more pasta?"

The Italian's face lit up immediately. "Ofcourse you can!"

Vash resisted the urge to gag. _He'd get to the bottom of this, even if he had to eat 20 large plates of spaghetti Bolognese. Besides, free food wasn't that bad._

"You really like pasta, don't you, mister Zwingli? The only people I know that eat so much of my food are Gilly and Luddy, and even they eat no more than 3 plates while you are just starting your 5th!" Feliciano said happily while Vash stared at his plate in desperation, forcing himself to eat.

"You know, you can tell me everything, right? I am here to restore the peace at Hetaballet so I really think you should tell me what is bothering you." He said bluntly, hoping to finally convince the Italian, he didn't know how much more pasta he could stomach.

"Well.." The Italian bit his lip. "Let me just check the windows and the door, okay?"

Vash watched with raised eyebrows as the Italian locked the door and drew the curtains shut. "Is this secret so important?"

"Well..yeah." Feliciano said, taking a seat across from Vash. "You told me we should report anything suspicious." He leant closer to Vash, an anxious expression on his face. "It's about Ludwig."

"What is the matter with him?" Vash asked, surprised, genuinely curious.

"He smiles less often."

"_He never smiles._" Vash stated dryly, rather disappointed.

"_No_!" Hissed the Italian in frustration. "You don't understand! He doesn't smile in my presence anymore! He's being all angry and snappy and he is constantly checking his phone..it's like he is paranoid or something!"

"Wait. His _phone_?" Vash said sharply.

Feliciano leaned so close to Vash their noses were actually touching, wide-eyed. "I think Francis' ghost is contacting him!"

"_Mein Gott_. Thank you much for telling me this mister Vargas." Vash said. _A clue! Something to hold onto! Finally!_

'Just.." Feli stared at him, a frightened expression on his face. "Just don't tell anything to Luddy, okay? He'd kill me."

"Don't worry, I won't. Trust me Feliciano. We're going to help Ludwig, okay?_OUMPF_-" Vash said before his windpipe was pressed shut by an Italian tightly wrapping his arms around his chest.

"Thank you so much, mister detective sir! I am so happy I could tell you this! I feel so relieved now! Thank you!" He shouted.

"Urgh..No thanks..It's my job..Could you _please_ release me now?" Vash panted.

"Ofcourse! Oh no, I've got to practice with the group in five minutes! Again _grazi_! You should totally come and eat pasta with me another time! Again, thank you so much for helping Luddy! _Ciao!_" The Italian rattled.

"_Ja..ja_..Just don't go blab to everyone about it, okay?" Vash said sternly.

"_Si, si_ promise! _Ciaoooo!_" The door slammed shut, leaving Vash alone with a big plate of pasta.

It took about three seconds before he had to empty his stomach in the trashcan.

* * *

**Zwingli Detectives**

_Vash Zwingli_

**Report**: _9_

**Date:** 7_-4-2015_

**Crime:** _Murder_

**Place of crime: **_Building of the Hetaballet._

**Victim:** Francis Bonnefoy, _26, main role in "Wings" (Caused Edelstein &amp; Herdevary to break up/ end of HetaBallet?)_

**Cause of death:** Beaten to death with a heavy metal object. Suspect probably used gloves.

**Suspects:** Profession: _Notes:_

**Arthur Kirkland**,Ballet dancer,_Found on the crime scene, strong hatred towards victim. (Knocked out on the crime scene?) _**Interrogated**

**Antonio Carriedo**,Stylist, _was in the ballroom (according to E.H)_

**Gilbert Beilschmidt**,Stage technician _Was in the theatre (according to R.E)_

**Ludwig Beilschmidt**,Stage technician/builder, _was in F.V's dressing room (according to F.V), probably has contact with 'Francis'_

**Lovino Vargas**,Decor painter, _was in the ballroom (according to E.H), made up an alibi for his brother _**Interrogated**

**Feliciano Vargas**,Ballet dancer, _last one to talk to victim before he was murdered, was in his own dressing room (According to F.V)_**Interrogated**

**Sesel Bonnefoy**,Ballet dancer,_Sister of the victim, at home under supervision_

**Elizaveta Herdevary** Ballet dancer/coach,Owner of HetaBallet._ Broken ankle, not able to dance or work. was in the ballroom. _**Interrogated**

**Roderich Edelstein** Ballet dancer, co-owner,Main role in "Wings", _dislike towards victim,__ was in the theatre,_ **I****nterrogated**

**Feliks Lukasiewicz** Stylist, _was in the ballroom (according to E.H)_ **Interrogated**

**Bella Van Rijn Stylist**,_Was in the ballroom (according to E.H) claims to know something (crucial?)_ **Interrogated  
**

**Natalia Braginski** Ballet dancer

**Ivan Braginski** Ballet dancer, _dislike towards victim_

**Yao Wang** Ballet Coach,_was in the ballroom (According to E.H)_ **Interrogated**

**Task for now:** _Confirm **Bella Van Rijn's** alibi._

_Find out who wrote the letter (Quick!)_

* * *

**OMFG! The story has 31 followers and almost 2000 views! I am so happy,I love all of you, thank you so much! Thank you very much for reading, please follow, favorite or review. **


	14. Orchid

**Enjoy!**

* * *

The man's dark eyes seemingly showed no obvious reaction upon finding a disheveled detective on his doorstep, clutching a vase with a large pink orchid in one hand while trying to somewhat fix his windswept hair the other.

"Mister Zwingli, I expect?" Was the only thing he said, nodding slightly. "My name is Honda Kiku, or Kiku Honda in Western order. I am pleased to finally meet you." He then proceeded to make a full bow.

"The pleasure is mine, mister Honda." Vash wheezed, struggling to bow while a particularly sharp end of the orchid was poking into his lower stomach.

"I thoroughly apologize for any inconveniences you may have had,mister Zwingli, by having to abandon your case in order to travel tot his part of the town. Please come in." Kiku stated rather flatly, bowing again.

"It's fine, really." Vash assured him, quickly stepping inside. "A colleague of mine is on his way to the HetaBallet right now, we won't let anyone or anything go unnoticed."

"I'm very glad to hear that." Kiku said curtly. "Miss Bonnefoy is doing well, she is currently learning how to deal with the loss of her brother, step by step. She is in the living room, please follow me."

They found her curled up on a large, white designer couch, probably the most impractical piece of furniture Vash had ever seen, arms wrapped around her knees as she watched the pouring rain trickle down the windows. She looked pretty fine, face well rested, dark brown hair cascading in shiny waves down her back, but still too thin. As soon as she noticed him, she gave a small wave.

"Monsieur Zwingli."

"Miss Bonnefoy. I, ah, I brought a plant." Vash said awkwardly, nodding to the obvious orchid in his arms. "It's not mine." He quickly said upon seeing her raised eyebrows."Your colleagues wanted me to give this to you."

She laughed. "That's so sweet of them."

"Ja."

The room fell silent, except for the sounds of raindrops ticking against the window and a cheesy French chanson which was playing softly in the background.

"So..what can I get you mister Zwingli? Tea? Coffee? Wine? Sake?" Kiku said after a while, breaking the uncomfortable atmosphere.

"Tea, _bitte_." Vash said and Kiku shuffled out of the room, his kimono preventing him from taking any large steps.

"So..How are you doing, miss Bonnefoy?" Vash said after a while, sitting down on the chair that looked the least expensive to compensate,would he accidentally spill his drink on it or damage it in any other way, putting the vase on the coffee table before him.

She looked up at him through long dark lashes, fumbling with the large sleeves of the oversized, fish-patterned, pink pyjamas she was wearing, exposing the healing cigarette burn for a moment. "I'm doing..better now. It's still hard to accept Fran is dead, but I will get there, eventually." She said hoarsely.

Vash nodded. "Well, miss Bonnefoy, I must tell you that I am not only here to check up on you and your therapy with mister Honda, I am also here because I want to ask you a few questions."

She gave him a weak smile. "I already expected that. Ask away, I've got nothing to hide. It's hard to believe I would do something which would put me in such a state, isn't it?" Sesel said gloomily, avoiding Vash's eyes, looking at what appeared to be a picture of Francis, surrounded by a few red and pink candles which were lit, covering the room in a heavy, flowery scent.

"Everything is possible, miss Bonnefoy." Vash pondered. "Now…could you please tell me what happened during the last rehearsal before Francis Bonnefoy was murdered?"

"Well..It would be our first real rehearsal, with all the costumes and stuff, so you'd think everybody would be excited. But _non_, everything went terrible. Everyone was gloomy and upset, because we all overheard Lizzy and Roderich's fight, but Lizzy, my brother and Arthur were by far the worst. Elizaveta was very bossy and snappy, which was kind of offputting because she usually treats everyone with kindness and respect. The only person she still was relatively kind to was Francis. She constantly tried to pick fights with Roderich, who didn't even bother to pay attention. My brother looked upset, and was behaving very strange. He refused to wear his costume and suddenly struggled to dance with Roderich, mumbling something about how 'he wasn't worth it'. Arthur was just plain agressive, he kept hissing insults at Francis until it escalated into a screaming match. Elizaveta then decided to stop rehearsing, my brother and Arthur both stormed off. I saw the look at Fran's face, he was obviously deeply hurt. So I went to find Arthur, to tell him that he had to behave himself. I found him on the balcony…

* * *

_"Shut up! SHUT UP KIRKLAND! Leave Francis alone, you jealous cunt!"_

_"Your brother.." Arthur roared, eyes wide, throwing his cigarette in her direction. "Your brother is a bloody whore who ruined my fucking life!"_

_She felt nothing except for burning anger, her vision becoming blurry. Her hand hit his cheek with an incredibly satisfying crack. "Fuck off, putain!" She shrieked, lighting another cigarette with her tingling fingers as Arthur Kirkland stumbled inside._

* * *

_He was screaming like a madman, trying to fight Ludwig off, refusing to let go of the body that was lying in his arms, limps bent in impossible positions, bloody locks sprawled around the corpse's head like some cruel halo, staring at her with wide blue eyes, so unlike her own._

_"Noooo! NOOO!" She screamed, because she couldn't so anything else. Her head was unable to form a singly thought anymore, everything was blurry, even the face of the person who was holding her back. Her whole world revolved around her brother's corpse on the floor before her._

_Wide green eyes were looking straight at her. She stared at Arthur Kirkland's pale, bloody face, which had been twisted in a sneer just about 10 minutes ago, as he accused Francis, her brother, of being a whore. Francis, her dear adopted brother, who'd guided her through the roughest times in her life, always smiling, always hoping. Francis who was about to become a star. The corpse who was now lying on the ground with a broken neck. Her inner organs twisted and turned, something snapped, and she saw nothing but red. "YOU!" She screamed, pointing at Arthur with trembling fingers. "It was YOU!" She lost all control. She wanted nothing more than to hurt him, the murderer. "You KILLED him! YOU KILLED MY BROTHER!"_

* * *

Kiku placed the teacup on the table with a gentle thud. "Here you go, mister Zwingli."

"Thank you, mister Honda." Vash said. "And thank you for telling your story, miss Bonnefoy."

She gave him a small nod, curling up even further, hiding her face in her knees. "I was friends with Arthur once, I never thought he'd be able to do such a thing. He has always been the jealous type, very jealous even, but he didn't seem like a killer to me.."

"Well," Vash said, resisting the urge to roll his eyes, "Maybe he isn't the killer. Actually, it is very unlikely Arthur Kirkland killed Francis Bonnefoy, but you and a lot of your colleagues don't even seem to _consider_ that possibility. Now, I was informed you and your brother lived here together?"

She briefly wiped her eyes before answering. "Oui..it's very quiet without him here."

"Could I please see his room?"

* * *

The room was large and light. Creamy white walls and a balcony. A kingsized bed in the middle of the room, soft silk sheets and fluffy pillows. Empty bottles on the nightstand. A huge wardrobe, doors opened. Clothes, paper and pieces of what appeared to be a shattered mirror scattered all over the wooden floor.

"He caused the mess himself, the night before he died." Sesel whispered softly.

"Was he an alcoholic?" Vash said, sniffing the empty bottles. Wine.

"Non, he never drank that much. He just locked himself in his room that night, refusing to talk to me."

"He must've been very upset, then." Vash stated, picking up a piece of the mirror, almost dropping it when he found himself faced with a pale face, bags and shadows underneath green cold eyes, framed by greasy blonde hair. _Those late nights spent on flipping through records of the suspects surely weren't paying off._

His attention was drawn by a piece of clothing which was ripped in half, stained with wine. The fabric felt soft and smooth between his fingers.

"His favorite coat." Sesel said sadly, moving to stand beside him, stroking the fabric.

"Hmmm.." Vash said, inspecting some of the other clothes in the room. _Gucci. Prada. Armani._ All with wine splattered over them. "Your brother, surely did have a taste for designer clothing, didn't he?" He said, frowning when he picked up a pair of shiny shoes with red soles. _Louboutin_. He winced, thinking about the amount of money that must've been spent on all these designer clothes, bags and shoes.

"Yes.." Sesel sighed. "I always wondered how he was able to pay all of this. He refused to tell me. He just said that 'I had to enjoy my gift' whenever he brought home another pair of shoes for me."

"Alright..Miss Bonnefoy, I don't think I'll be able to find any clues in here, so I'll be going n-"

It was just a little piece of paper, sticking out from underneath the mattress. _It's probably nothing, don't be desperate_, Vash mentally told himself before he grabbed the paper, unfolding it.

* * *

_Fran,_

_I am sorry we have to communicate like this, but you know there is a chance my phone will be checked. I've been thinking. About you, about my marriage, about our love and you know, I've sorted things out. You are the one for me. My marriage is failing, but you pulled me back up again. I love you, Francis. I want to spend my life with you. I am going to get a divorce, for you, for us. We are going to be happy together, I promise._

_This will all end soon. When we are together, we can leave the HetaBallet if you want. Perhaps we could go back to Europe. Just hold on for a little bit. It won't be long anymore. If you need anything, clothes, money, just ask me._

_We'll be together soon._

_Yours forever._

* * *

"Well miss Bonnefoy," Vash said dryly. "I think we now know how your brother was able to own so many pairs of shoes."

"I've always suspected he was doing something like that." Sesel mumbled, as Kiku handed Vash his coat. ".So I guess he caused Lizzy and Roderich to divorce, huh?"

"Most likely, yes." Vash said calmly. "I'm sorry you had to find this out like this, miss Bonnefoy."

She gave him a weak smile. "It's not your fault. Arthur knew about this?"

"Probably."

"I guess my dear brother really ruined lives." She said gloomily.

"You probably couldn't have done anything about it, miss Bonnefoy." Kiku said calmly.

"One last question."

"What is it, mister Zwingli?"

"The thing you said to me when I found you on the balcony. How did you know the stylists knew something?"

"The three of them were acting suspicious, Bella and Feliks were particularly eager to know why I suspected Arthur of murdering my brother. I didn't want to tell them so I just said I thought him clutching Francis' corpse was enough proof. Maybe it was nothing, though. Bella Van Rijn is known for sticking her nose in things that are none of her buisiness."

Sesel gave Vash a sad look. "Besides, it seems Arthur isn't the killer after all."

"Promise me, miss Bonnefoy, that you won't tell anyone about this." Vash said sternly.

"You have my word." She said. "Thanks for the orchid. _Au revoir_."

* * *

_Was this it? Had he solved it? Every piece of the puzzle he had collected fit perfectly with this new one. But there were a lot of pieces missing. He still had to interrogate some other suspects. Nobody's alibi was completely confirmed. Who was the iduvidual who pretended he was Francis? Was it a joke to cause panic, or a serious threat?_

Vash growled in annoyance, tightening his grip on the steering wheel. It was getting late and he wasn't able to see much due to the darkness and big drops of rain which splattered against the window. Almost there.

He arrived just in time to see his favorite parking spot was already taken by an ambulance.

* * *

**Zwingli Detectives**

_Vash Zwingli_

**Report**: _9_

**Date:** 7_-4-2015_

**Crime:** _Murder_

**Place of crime: **_Building of the Hetaballet._

**Victim:** Francis Bonnefoy, _26, main role in "Wings" (Caused Edelstein &amp; Herdevary to break up/ end of HetaBallet.)_

**Cause of death:** Beaten to death with a heavy metal object. Suspect probably used gloves.

**Suspects:** Profession: _Notes:_

**Arthur Kirkland**,Ballet dancer,_Found on the crime scene, strong hatred towards victim. (Knocked out on the crime scene?) _**Interrogated**

**Antonio Carriedo**,Stylist, _was in the ballroom (according to E.H)_

**Gilbert Beilschmidt**,Stage technician _Was in the theatre (according to R.E)_

**Ludwig Beilschmidt**,Stage technician/builder, _was in F.V's dressing room (according to F.V), probably has contact with 'Francis'_

**Lovino Vargas**,Decor painter, _was in the ballroom (according to E.H), made up an alibi for his brother _**Interrogated**

**Feliciano Vargas**,Ballet dancer, _last one to talk to victim before he was murdered, was in his own dressing room (According to F.V)_**Interrogated**

**Sesel Bonnefoy**,Ballet dancer_,Sister of the victim, at home under supervision, was on the balcony (According to S.B) _**Interrogated**

**Elizaveta Herdevary** Ballet dancer/coach,Owner of HetaBallet._ Broken ankle, not able to dance or work. was in the ballroom. _**Interrogated**

**Roderich Edelstein** Ballet dancer, co-owner,Main role in "Wings", _dislike towards victim,__ was in the theatre,_ **I****nterrogated**

**Feliks Lukasiewicz** Stylist, _was in the ballroom (according to E.H)_ **Interrogated**

**Bella Van Rijn Stylist**,_Was in the ballroom (according to E.H) claims to know something (crucial?)_ **Interrogated  
**

**Natalia Braginski** Ballet dancer

**Ivan Braginski** Ballet dancer, _dislike towards victim_

**Yao Wang** Ballet Coach,_was in the ballroom (According to E.H)_ **Interrogated**

**Task for now:** _Confirm **Bella Van Rijn's** alibi._

_Find out who wrote the letter (Quick!)_

* * *

**...Okay that's probably the worst cliffhanger I've written so far.**

**The pair of shoes Vash is holding are the Louboutin Dandelion Patent ( 625 Euro, about 682 dollar)**

**Yes people, I did my research. To me, those shiny shoes looked like something France would wear ;p**

**I know it all seems (seems being the keyword) fairly obvious now, but I hope I'll still be able to surprise you. I think there will be at least another 8 chapters if the story keeps up this pace. Please leave a review if you enjoyed this chapter (if you disliked it that's fine too ;) ) Thank you for favoriting, following and reviewing!**


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